Rose, By Any Other Name
by D. Fowler
Summary: Where WAS Marshall when Mary was shot?
1. Chapter 1

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 1

**Sixteen and a Half Months Ago** "There's a reason why you were ordered to see her. You're supposed to tell her these things. She can help," Marshall Mann insisted as he exited the elevator with his partner.

Mary Shannon swiped her identification card through the electronic reader and the lock released. Pulling the gate open, she retorted, "You seem to be the only person in my life who has yet to resign himself to reality. What makes you think a bureaucrat head shrinker is in any position to help someone as screwed up as me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe her years of professional training, as well as field work dealing with numerous other law enforcement agents involved in traumatic incidents. Shelly Finkel has an excellent track record."

The gate swung closed behind them. "Yeah, well, sharing every detail of my life is not something I have the time or patience for. In order to avoid being put on administrative leave I'm forced to keep in touch with her once a week. That's enough."

Marshall made his way around his desk and said, "Telling her you're having nightmares isn't sharing every detail of your life. Nightmares are a sign of something else going on. It's precisely the sort of thing she's equipped to help you through."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she responded, "Nightmares, shmightmares. We're talking about dreams here. What's the big deal?"

Before Marshall could respond, Stan McQueen rapped on his glass office wall, diverting their attention. Their boss motioned them to him, all the while continuing his phone conversation. As the two entered the office, he addressed the caller.

"We'll have everything ready. I'll contact you in a few hours once they've arrived." Replacing the receiver, he turned his attention to his marshals. "Good morning. That was U.S. Attorney David McArthur from Pennsylvania. We have a case. Orin Nash, a marshal out of the Philadelphia office, is delivering the witness. They've already taken off and should be arriving in about five hours. You'll need to have a package ready by then. I'm assigning her to you, Mary."

"What's the scoop?" she queried, plopping down in front of his desk.

Taking his own chair, Stan read off of a notepad, "Rose Stanton Lawrence, 33, born and raised in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The day before yesterday, two members of a Guatemalan drug cartel sprayed the car she was riding in with an automatic weapon. Her husband, James Andrew Lawrence, was driving. He and their 8 year old son, Silas, were killed. Thanks to the help of a concerned citizen with a cell phone who followed the shooters, the men were apprehended within the hour and Rose was able to pick them out of a line-up. The Feds have been trying for years to put away the head honchos of this cartel. They feel this case gives them a good shot at doing that. The witness who was in the car behind the Lawrence's is being relocated as well, along with his family. The Feds are excited about the case but the members of this cartel are particularly ruthless. In the past, live witnesses to their long string of crimes have been impossible to find and there's a whole trail of dead ones."

"What brought on the attack?" Marshall questioned.

"James Lawrence worked in security at Harrisburg International Airport. These cartels are targeting smaller airports where the security isn't as stringent to bring their drugs into the country, then trucking them to major cities for distribution. James got involved passing marked bags containing drugs through checkpoints, but eventually decided that the life wasn't for him. The Guatemalans didn't take too kindly to his wanting out and decided that he had outlived his usefulness."

"What took so long for the U.S. Attorney to move on this?" Mary asked. "Why didn't they put Rose on a plane right away?"

"Her son was killed instantly but her husband was in surgery for several hours and finally died sometime last night. The Feds kept her under guard at the hospital so she could be with him, and then she was taken to her house by Nash early this morning to pack after he passed away. She was put on a flight immediately afterwards."

"How involved was she in her husband's sideline?"

"According to McArthur, not at all. She only found out what her husband was doing a week ago. She threatened to take their son and disappear if he didn't get out, and tried to talk him into going to the authorities. James thought he could go it alone, that if he promised not to tell what he knew, the cartel wouldn't bother him. As we all know, that seldom works out," Stan noted dryly. "That's all I know about the situation. Since AUSA didn't know until late last night that they had only one witness to relocate instead of two, this is a rush job. I told McArthur I'd put my best agents on it, that if anyone could whip up an identity on short notice, it was you two."

"Aw, Stan. You're going to make me blush," Mary quipped, giving her boss a feigned look of embarrassment.

"Just don't make a liar of me," he warned.

"We won't," Marshall promised. "Did she pick a name?"

"McArthur said she wasn't in any shape to do that. She's still understandably in shock. He did say that she did _not_ want to keep her first name or initial, and didn't care one way or the other about her last name, so the two of you get to create a new identity from the ground up. Eleanor had an errand to run but she should be back within the hour if you need any help from her."

Mary shook her head and noted sarcastically, "I think we can handle a simple identification package without Eleanor's super powers. We have done this a time or two before."

"Then why don't you put your money where your mouth is and get at it," her boss suggested pointedly.

***"What about Amy?" Mary queried, peering at her computer monitor.

Looking over her shoulder, Marshall argued, "I don't like Amy. It sounds too … wimpy. How about Jessica? It's feminine, yet with a touch of spiritedness."

"She isn't a race horse," Mary pointed out wryly.

"I like the name. And we haven't had a Jessica."

"Okay, Jessica it is," she acquiesced. "Last name?"

"Hmmm … How about Lawson? That's similar to Lawrence."

She quickly typed the name on her keyboard, then studied the screen. Slowly shaking her head, she noted, "Lawson won't work. There's another relocated witness from the east coast whose original last name was Lawson. Pick again."

"Jessica … Larson," he suggested. "That sounds good together."

After typing again, she consulted the screen and reported, "No Larson in the program in Albuquerque. Jessica Larson it is. I'll get started on the birth certificate."

"And I'll go try to round up an apartment for her," Marshall decided, turning toward his own desk.

"Better make it furnished," she advised. "We certainly aren't going to have time to visit Rent-A-Center."

***"I just finished all the copies," Eleanor noted, handing a stack of paperwork to her boss. "Hot off the press."

Stan gathered the papers into a file and handed it to Mary. "Nash brought Rose in a few minutes ago when you two were out grabbing a bite. They're waiting in the conference room."

Mary flipped absent-mindedly through the packet of papers and asked, "How does she seem?"

"Quiet," Stan answered. "She still looks pretty shaken. Nash brought us a copy of the recording from the police cruiser taken at the accident scene, as well as Rose's initial interview. AUSA has the only other copy. They want this one to stay with her file."

"I'll take care of that," Eleanor offered.

"Anything else we should know?" Marshall questioned.

"Nope," Stan responded. "I already called McArthur to let him know they arrived safely, so it looks like everything's covered."

Mary smacked the file of paperwork against Marshall's chest. "Let's do this."

Seconds later, they entered the conference room to find the pair sitting at the table. Nash was turned side-ways in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned close to the woman, talking quietly to her. The woman sat with her hands in her lap, staring vacantly at the table, nodding as she listened. They both looked up at the marshals' entrance.

"I'm Inspector Mary Shepherd and this is my partner, Inspector Marshall Mann," she announced, they having decided beforehand that it wasn't necessary for both of them to use their aliases.

The agent, tall with blond hair and dark eyes, stood and shook hands with each in turn. "I'm Orin Nash." Indicating the woman, he added, "And this is our witness."

Mary nodded to her. "Hello, Rose. Welcome to Albuquerque."

The woman looked up at her with solemn green eyes and insisted quietly, "My name isn't Rose."

Looking from her to Nash in confusion, Mary said, "I'm sorry. There must've been some sort of miscommunication." Addressing the woman, she asked, "What is your name?"

"I thought that's why I was here," she replied, "so that you could tell me."

Mary's expression grew amused and she gave the woman a half smile. "Right."

Nash stood up and noted, "This is where I bow out." Placing a hand on the shoulder of the woman beside him, he said, "The U.S. Attorney will be in touch with the marshals here when he has a trial date for you."

"Thank you, for all of your help and your kindness. It really was appreciated," the woman told him sincerely.

"You're welcome. Take care." Nodding to the other two, he added, "It was nice to meet you. If there's anything I can help with, give me a call."

"We will," Mary assured him. "Have a safe trip back."

Once he had exited, Marshall closed the conference room door and joined Mary as she took a chair near the woman.

Pulling a sheet from her packet, Mary placed it in front of the woman. "Your new name is Jessica Larson. You were born in Portland, Oregon and just moved to New Mexico. You can make up whatever story you'd like to explain the move, as long you don't use the name of anyone from your former life as a reference point. This is the documentation you'll need to get a New Mexico driver's license." Watching her as she scanned the paperwork handed to her, Mary added, "As I think was explained to you earlier, we normally allow witnesses entering the program to choose their own new names. Since we were short on time, we came up with one for you. If you have something else in mind, though, we can redraw the documentation and have it ready for you to sign tomorrow."

"I'm fine with what you've chosen."

"All right." Pulling out a thick booklet, she placed it on the table. "This is known as the WITSec memorandum of understanding. We'll go over it together and answer any questions you might have. Before we do that, can we get anything for you? Something to drink or eat?"

"No, nothing, thank you," she responded.

"Let's get started then," Mary suggested with a slight smile.

***Jessica Larson tiredly rubbed the back of her neck under her short, dark curls as Mary asked, "Do you have any questions about anything we've covered?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, it all seems pretty clear."

"Then these are the last few pages to sign," Mary indicated, handing her several documents. "Do you have any other family members who depend on you, aging parents for example?"

"No, I don't. My father died a little over two years ago and my mother passed away seven months later. I had a sister but she was killed in an auto accident years ago. There are several aunts and uncles, quite a few cousins – no one I'm close to, though. My husband has several siblings so his parents will be cared for." She laid down the pen and looked away, amending softly, "My husband _had_ several siblings."

Mary reached out and placed a hand on her forearm sympathetically. "I know there's a lot to process and get used to, but we're here to help you through it."

"I appreciate that," Jessica nodded.

"I realize we've already gone over this, but it bears repeating: You understand that you can't contact anyone from your former life, even to let them know you're all right? No letters, no phone calls, no e-mails, no text or instant messages."

"I understand."

"What kind of work did you do in Harrisburg?"

"I've been a real estate agent for a little over three years."

"And are you overly attached to that profession?"

"Not particularly. The market hasn't been great lately."

"Then how would you like to try your hand at catering?" At Jessica's questioning look, Mary explained, "I have a friend, Blanche, who owns a catering business. I gave her a call this afternoon and she's agreed to hire you. She can be a bit cantankerous, but she's fair and she's known me long enough not to ask any questions."

"Don't lie to her, Mare," Marshall corrected as he entered and placed water bottles on the conference table. "Describing Blanche as 'cantankerous' is more than an understatement. The woman is downright mean."

"She's not that bad," Mary argued. "You just have to know how to handle her."

"And how is that?" he queried. "With a whip and a chair?"

Turning back to Jessica, she waved him off and said, "Don't listen to him. You'll do fine."

"When do I start?"

"I told Blanche I'd bring you by in a few days. When you feel ready, you can let me know. WITSec will pay your rent for the first six months to a year, until you sell your home in Harrisburg and get on your feet financially. We know you've had a shock, so if you need some time, don't hesitate to take it."

"All right," she acknowledged.

Mary gathered the paperwork and stood up. "Let's go get you settled into your new apartment."

***"I asked the manager for a third story unit because I thought you might feel safer that way," Marshall explained.

"Thank you, that was thoughtful." Jessica slowly surveyed the surroundings. "It's been a long time since I lived in an apartment."

"It will take some getting used to. The furniture came with it but the manager said he'd take out anything you want to replace with your own stuff. Your belongings from Harrisburg will be shipped to our warehouse. We'll contact you when everything arrives."

"I left everything to be sold with the house. I brought all I wanted with me."

"Okay," he acknowledged slowly. Looking at her thoughtfully, he asked, "Have you had anything to eat all day?"

"No. I haven't had much of an appetite," she admitted.

"You should let us take you to dinner. You'll feel a lot better once you've had a decent meal," he noted.

Mary joined them in the middle of the small living room. "Yeah, and we can drive you around a little so you can become familiar with the neighborhood."

Jessica sighed and shook her head. "Honestly, I don't think I can manage it. I haven't slept for three days so I'd probably fall asleep on you half way through dinner. If you don't mind, I'll just make something here with the things I picked up at the market when we stopped. Can I take a raincheck for dinner?"

"Of course," Mary assured her, reaching to touch her shoulder, "whenever you're up to it. I programmed both of our numbers into the cell phone I left on the kitchen counter for you. Keep it with you at all times, and if you need anything at all, day or night, just call. Get some rest and we'll check in with you tomorrow."

"Thank you for all you both did today. I truly appreciate the help."

Giving her a smile, Mary said, "That's what we're here for."

"Get some sleep," Marshall advised as he opened the door for his partner.

"I will. Thanks," Jessica replied.

On their way down the stairs, Mary observed, "No demands, no requests, no questions, no complaints. It's a good thing all my cases aren't this easy, otherwise I'd have to shoot myself in the foot out of sheer boredom."

"She's still in shock. She hasn't had time to absorb everything that's happened," Marshall pointed out. "She'll have questions eventually."

"I suppose you're right. I just wish she would've let us take her to dinner. I feel like we're abandoning her way too soon."

He slipped his hand into his pocket for the keys to the government-owned SUV parked a short distance away. "We're not abandoning her. She seemed like she wanted some time alone. I'm sure she hasn't had even a minute of that since the accident." Looking down at his palm, he added, "Damn! I knew I forget something. Here's the extra key to her apartment."

"You can run it back up to her. I don't feel like climbing three flights of stairs again."

"Here." He tossed the truck keys to her when she turned around, several steps below him, and she caught them easily. "I'll be right back."

Moments later, he returned and slowly climbed into the driver's seat, then handed the single key to his partner. "You keep up with this. You can give it to her tomorrow."

Accepting the key, she gave him a curious look. "Didn't she answer the door?"

"I didn't knock," he admitted hesitantly.

"Why not?"

"I heard her crying through the door," he responded quietly. Shrugging, he amended, "Actually, sobbing uncontrollably would be a better description."

"Aw, damn!" Mary exclaimed. "I knew we were leaving too soon. You think we should go back?"

"She has to cry sometime, Mare," he noted as he fired the ignition and began backing out. "It's part of the process. She can't begin healing until she grieves. Being with her isn't going to take away her pain. Only time will do that."

Letting her head thump against the backrest, she agreed, "I understand that. I just hate to think of her all alone in a strange place, crying her eyes out for her dead child and scumbag husband. No one deserves that."

"No, they don't," he concurred, pulling out onto the street. "We'll stop by tomorrow and see how she's doing. Hopefully she'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

***"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Mary asked, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the backseat. "This is only your third day here."

"I can't continue to sit in that apartment alone," Jessica admitted quietly. "Working will keep my mind off of … everything. The sooner I start, the better."

"Well I think it's safe to say that Blanche was happy to be getting such an eager employee. I'm sure she'll have plenty of work lined up for you by tomorrow."

"And you don't know how much it takes to make Blanche happy," Marshall interjected. "For your sake I hope it lasts."

"What exactly do you have against Blanche?" Mary questioned pointedly. "She's never done anything to deserve your intense dislike."

"Every time she sees me, she refers to me as your 'lanky boyfriend', despite my setting her straight numerous times. She does it on purpose, just to irritate me. Tell me what I ever did to her to deserve _that_!" he demanded.

"Don't be so sensitive. If you didn't make such a fuss it wouldn't be fun for her anymore and she'd drop it. You're such a baby sometimes."

"Okay, okay, no name calling in front of the guest," Marshall scolded. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he asked, "Is there anywhere else you'd like to go? We're at your disposal this afternoon, Jess, so feel free to take advantage."

"You've both already done so much," she replied. "And I think I have everything I need. I walked around the neighborhood yesterday and found the grocery store you told me about. I also found a pawn shop that has a nice bike I'm thinking of buying. Albuquerque seems pretty bike-friendly and I'd like to start riding whenever possible, instead of driving everywhere."

"Well, that's certainly ambitious," Mary noted. "I know you don't have a car yet, but we can take you to the DMV if you'd like to get your driver's license for identification purposes."

"That's all right. I'll take care of it on my own. Thanks for the offer, though."

"We're supposed to be helping you adjust," Marshall pointed out. "You have to let us do _something_."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I'm used to doing things on my own. But if anything comes up that I do need help with, I promise I'll let you know."

"You'd better," Mary warned. "Otherwise, we're going to have to take up golf or something to fill our afternoons."

**Eleven and a Half Months Ago** "I hate over-night trips," Mary complained, rubbing her neck. "I never sleep well in strange beds."

Marshall stretched and heard a satisfying popping sound come from the middle of his back. "You realize you left yourself wide open to all sorts of sundry comments about you and strange beds." At her warning look, he held up his hand. "Don't worry. I'm too tired to even form a coherent thought at the moment."

She dropped her keys on her desk and picked up her phone messages. "There's a lot of that going around."

Glancing around the office, Marshall noted, "Stan and Eleanor must be at lunch."

"Or off doing God knows what," Mary muttered. Frowning, she studied her last message curiously, then quickly shuffled back through the others. "I have two messages from Jessica Larson, both from today."

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I don't think so. Neither is marked 'urgent'. And there's a different phone number on each." Pulling her Blackberry from its holder on her belt, she quickly scrolled through her contact list. "One of the numbers is from the cell we gave her. The other is … the number for Blanche's catering company."

"Maybe she finally wants to talk about the accident. You've been trying to get her to do that for the five months she's been here."

"Yeah, and she's politely ducked every attempt. I'm going to call her back."

"And I'm going to go grab a real cup of coffee from the little shop around the corner. I could use a good jolt of caffeine. Want some?"

"Do I ever," she replied. Turning her attention to her phone, she responded to the recorded message, "Jessica, this is Mary Shepherd. I'm sorry I missed your earlier calls but I just got back into town. Give me a call as soon as you can." Scrolling down again, she tried the second number. After a few seconds, she smiled. "Blanche? This is Mary Shepherd. How are you?"

"Mary! I haven't heard from you in ages! I'm doing fine, Girl. How are you?"

"Other than swamped with work, I'm doing well. I have a message that Jessica Larson called. Is she around by any chance?"

"No, Honey, she's at a meeting. Did you try her cell?"

"I did, but she didn't answer."

"She leaves her phone in the van when she's with a client. If you leave her a message, she'll call you back first chance she gets. She's good about that."

Mary sat back in her chair. "How is she doing? Is everything working out with her?"

"You could say that," the older woman confirmed with a chuckle. "She's buying the business from me."

"What? Are you kidding?" Mary exclaimed. "When did all this happen?"

"She brought me a proposal about a month ago. I had all but turned over the day-to-day operation to her anyway and had been mulling over the idea of retiring, so it was a good move for us both. She made a generous offer to buy me out and wants me to stay on as a consultant. I get a nice salary for basically doing nothing more than answering a phone call every now and then, and she gets to keep the company name."

Huffing out a breath, Mary noted, "Well this is certainly a surprise. It sounds like the two of you hit it off pretty well."

"That we did. She's tripled my business in the few months she's been here. I've never seen anyone work so hard. She's great with the clients, the staff is crazy about her, and I'd adopt her if she'd let me. I can't thank you enough for sending her to me."

"It was my pleasure. I'm just surprised about your news. It's difficult to imagine you being retired. What are you going to do with all of your free time?"

"I'm going to do some traveling, head to Florida to visit my son, take a cruise or two – you know, the usual things a lady of leisure does these days."

"Well, if you ever need a traveling companion, you have my number. Being a lady of leisure sounds unbelievably good right now."

Blanche let out a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind, Hon. But I'd have to insist that you bring that lanky partner of yours along. Things just wouldn't be the same without having him around to tease."

"I'll tell him you said that. Keep in touch, Blanche. I want to hear all about your world travels."

"I will, Mary. You take care, now."

Marshall returned moments later to find Mary sitting at her desk, staring into space, lost in thought. Handing her a coffee cup, he asked, "Did you get in touch with Jess?"

Shaking her head, partly to clear it, she replied, "No, not yet. I left her a message. I did speak to Blanche, though. She had some surprising news."

He took a seat on the corner of her desk. "Oh? What's that?"

"She's selling her catering business to Jessica."

His eyebrows arched. "Seriously? How did that happen?"

"Blanche said she was thinking of retiring and Jess was practically running the business anyway, so it just made sense. She also said her business has tripled since Jess came to work for her."

With a nod, he said, "Good for her. It sounds like she's throwing herself into her work as a means of coping."

"I'll say. To go from part-time employee to owning the business in a few months is quite an accomplishment. I wonder if she does windows, too."

"She's a strong woman. I think you've been worried about her for nothing."

"It's my job to worry and I happen to be very good at it," Mary retorted. "Being successful in business doesn't mean she's successfully dealt with her emotional issues. We've both been doing this long enough to know that if she doesn't deal with it, her anger at her husband, at the death of their son, and at being in this situation, is just going to eat at her. She only has the two of us to confide in, Marshall. Until she does, I'm going to keep worrying, if that's all right with you." With a shrug she added, "Besides, you know I have a soft spot for the truly innocent ones."

***"Sorry for the game of telephone tag, Mary. I've hardly had a moment to even take a breath today. How was your trip?"

"Uneventful, as hoped for," she replied into her phone. "I spoke with Blanche a little while ago and I understand congratulations are in order. She told me the good news."

"Isn't it crazy? Who would've thought? After I received the check for the proceeds from the sale of the house in Harrisburg, things just sort of fell into place, though. I think it's a good decision," Jessica acknowledged. "But that's not my only news."

"Oh? Scaling Mount Everest next on your to-do list?"

"I'll probably hold off on that for a while," she pointed out with a smile in her voice. "And my news isn't exactly up to 'scaling' status. I'm only buying a house."

"Really? That's great! When do you close?"

"In a few weeks, if everything goes well. I'm already pre-qualified for a loan. Which brings me to the reason I called in the first place: I have everything the mortgage company has asked for except a 2008 tax return. I only expected them to ask for 2009 financial statements, and they didn't tell me until yesterday that they needed it. I figured you were the person to help me with that."

Mary nodded. "I can dummy up something for you. How soon do you need it?"

"I'm meeting the real estate agent at the house tomorrow around 1:00 to sign the final contract and deliver the rest of the requested paperwork. I'll tell him I need a few days, that my files are in storage, to give you some time. Will the middle of next week work for you?"

"Actually, tomorrow isn't a problem," Mary assured her. "Fake forms are a lot easier to supply than the real thing. I can get them to you before your meeting. Where and when would you like to get together?"

"Well … in that case … if you and Marshall want to meet me at the house a little while before my agent gets there, I could give you the grand tour and bring you lunch as a way of saying thanks. I've been trying out some new recipes for work. The staff has already certified them as being client-worthy, but I could use some outside input if you two would care to provide a second opinion."

"Free lunch, huh? I suppose we could force ourselves. Send me an e-mail or text with all the particulars, including a copy of some of your 2009 pay stubs so that I have some income guidelines to work with, and I'll check to make sure Marshall is available."

"You'll have the info within the hour. See you tomorrow."

***"Where exactly is this house she's buying?" Marshall asked as he exited the parking garage.

"According to MapQuest, way the hell out in the boonies," Mary replied from the passenger seat. "It's practically in the next county. I have no idea why anyone would want to live out there."

"Some people actually appreciate wide-open spaces and peace and quiet," he pointed out.

"Well I hope she appreciates coyotes howling and a long commute as well. When I said it was way the hell out, I meant it. And if you don't step on it, we're going to be late."

***A little under an hour later, Mary pointed to a road ahead of them. "I think that's where we turn. The house should be about a quarter-mile from the highway."

Within minutes, Marshall pulled the SUV into a gravel drive-way.

"Are you sure this is it?" he asked, peering at the dilapidated house in front of them, paint peeling and overgrown with shrubs. "This place is a wreck!"

"This is the address she sent me and that's the catering van parked ahead." Shaking her head, she said, "She must intend to tear it down and have a new one built. This house doesn't seem salvageable."

As they were climbing out of the truck, Jessica came out on the front porch to meet them, giving them a smile. "You found it. I was beginning to worry that you had gotten lost."

"You didn't tell me it was practically in Texas," Mary quipped, returning the smile.

With a laugh, Jessica jumped off of the porch to give her a hug. "It is pretty far out of town," she acknowledged. Looking up at Marshall with a bit more reserve, she reached out to lightly touch his arm. "How are you, Marshall? It's been a while since I've seen you."

"I'm good," he nodded. Looking at her curiously, he noted, "You've let your hair grow out. It looks nice."

Putting a hand to her head self-consciously, she replied shyly, "Thank you. I thought it was time for a change." Leading the way, she added, "Come on in and I'll show you around. Watch the steps, though, some of them are rotted. That's the first thing on my list to repair once I close."

From behind her, Mary gave her partner a skeptical look, then cautiously followed. Once inside the door, she stopped and removed her sunglasses. "Wow. This place needs some serious work, Jess. Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Oh, don't let the way it looks now fool you. This house is great," she insisted. "Except for the front porch and steps, it's really sound. With a little work and some paint, it's going to be spectacular. It's exactly what I've been looking for."

Trying to think of something encouraging to say, Marshall studied the ceiling and noted, "It has some nice exposed beams."

"And look at the crown molding and bead board on the walls," Jessica pointed out excitedly. "There are also solid oak hardwoods under the linoleum. I pulled some of the old vinyl up in the kitchen and bathrooms and didn't see even one water stain. I shouldn't have any problem at all restoring the original floors."

"Do you know anything about renovations?" Mary asked, stepping around a pile of trash to look out of a grimy window. "I just got an estimate on some minor repairs that my house needs and, believe me, it's going to cost a fortune to fix this place up."

"I've actually been part of a couple of renovations in the past, and I'll do most of the work here myself. There are only a few things I'll have to hire someone to help with." Motioning to them, she said, "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house, then we can sit outside and eat."

***"I'm so full I can barely move," Mary groaned, leaning back in her seat. "Wasn't the honey-lime dressing on the fruit salad amazing?"

"Everything was amazing. It isn't difficult to see why the business is doing so well."

"Taking on a business and a major house renovation at the same time is nothing short of madness. I can barely manage to mow the lawn every week."

"I think it would be fun to buy an old house and restore it," Marshall responded. "To take something old and make it look new again would be very satisfying work."

"I'd settle for my not so old house looking new again," Mary grumbled, "thank you Agent O'Connor." Growing thoughtful, she pointed out, "Jessica looks good, don't you think? She seems happy."

"Yes, she does, on both counts. I like her hair longer. It's quite becoming."

"And if I knew bike riding would make me look that toned, I'd trade in my old clunker for a 10-speed in a heartbeat." Looking out of the window, she added, "I'm still not buying her little-miss-sunshine routine, though."

"She seems genuinely happy, Mare. Maybe she's found a way to deal with all that's happened on her own. Some people are able to forgive and move on a lot easier than others."

"How do you forgive something like that?" she questioned, turning to look at him intently. "Her low-life husband was responsible for getting her 8 year old child killed, for Christ's sake. I'm not a mother and even I can understand the kind of rage that would evoke. On top of that, she saw it happen. She has to be experiencing some form of PTSD. No one deals with something of that magnitude without help." Looking out of the window again, she added, "It's always the quiet ones that go off the deep end and shoot up a shopping mall."

After giving her concerns due thought for a moment, he suggested, "Maybe she needs to speak with a professional. She might even feel more comfortable doing so. You should mention it to Shelly Finkel when you talk with her tomorrow."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to do that. You and I are supposed to be her support system. I feel like I'm failing her in some way, not asking the right questions, or approaching it in the right way." She let out a deep sigh. "Or maybe you're right and I'm worried for nothing."

"As a whole, women are much more resilient than men," he pointed out. "They accept and adapt to new situations, even tragedies, a lot better."

"Most of my female witnesses do seem to handle being in the program more easily," she agreed.

"I have a theory about that. I think women are wired to be nurturing and helpful. Their intuition allows them to see a need and fill it, which requires adapting to ever-changing situations. Men are supposed to be decisive and unyielding. They don't take to change as well, which is why they sometimes have difficulty in a program that requires them to change every single aspect about themselves and their lives."

"And maybe it's just that women are used to taking direction and men are used to giving it," Mary noted pointedly. "I've yet to meet the man who doesn't want to be in constant control."

"You can't make that kind of blanket statement about all of us," he argued. "Take me, for example. If I had to be in constant control, you and I wouldn't be partners since we both know that you have the mother-of-all control issues."

"Shut up and drive," she commanded.


	2. Chapter 2

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 2

**Five and a Half Months Ago **"Damn it!" Mary swore, slamming down the phone on her desk.

"Something wrong?" Marshall queried, looking up from his own work.

"You could say that," she retorted, snatching her cell phone from its holder. Scrolling down, she selected a number, then waited for a few seconds. "Jessica? This is Mary Shepherd. Are you busy?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm on a job at the moment. What's up?"

"I need to meet with you. Will you be free later today?"

"Not until sometime well after midnight. I can meet you tomorrow, though."

Mary checked her schedule, then asked, "How does 11:00 sound?"

"Sounds fine. Can I call you in the morning for the details? I'm swamped right now."

"Sure. We'll talk then."

***Mary surveyed their surroundings. "I told her the northwest corner of the park. Do you see her anywhere?"

Turning to look in the opposite direction, Marshall pointed. "There she is."

They stood where they were as the figure approached, dressed in the usual black slacks and white button-up shirt that she wore for work.

"Sorry I'm late," Jessica apologized, swinging a tote from her shoulder. "I wasn't sure where to park."

"You're not late and we just arrived ourselves," Mary told her, bending slightly to give the shorter woman a quick hug as Marshall took her bag. Leading the way to a near-by picnic table, she asked, "How is the business going?"

"Great," Jessica replied. "I had to hire three more people last week. If you know someone looking for a job, I'm thinking of adding an office manager to handle the bookings. We've been really busy the last few weeks."

"That's good to hear, considering how many small businesses are failing," Mary pointed out.

"You must be doing something right," Marshall added.

"I hope so. I thoroughly enjoy the work. I've met a lot of interesting people," she nodded, then acknowledged, "Probably can't hold a candle to some of the characters you guys deal with, though."

"We do tend to get the cream of the character crop," Mary agreed with a smirk.

Unzipping the tote, Jessica said, "I appreciate your meeting me here. I have an appointment near-by this afternoon. Now I won't have to eat and run."

"If the food is as good as the last time you fed us, we'd be willing to meet you on the moon," Marshall chimed in.

Giving him a smile, she reminded him, "Since WITSec rules won't allow me to leave the state, we should probably keep our meetings confined to this time zone." When she reached into the tote to unpack it, she pulled out two envelopes. "Oh, before I forget, I have something besides food to give you. I just picked these up from the printer this morning and hadn't planned to send them out for another week or so, but I thought I'd take the opportunity to deliver yours in person." Handing one envelope to each of them, she explained, "These are your invitations to an open house I'm having in a little over three weeks. I'd love for you both to come."

"An open house? At _your_ house?" Mary questioned skeptically. "It's only been six months since you bought it."

With an amused look, Jessica handed her a container, along with a fork, and replied, "Yeah, at my house. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. It's amazing what a little paint can do."

"Well, I can't wait to see it," Marshall told her. "Can we bring anything?"

"No, only yourselves. And a significant other, if you'd like and the rules allow it. I don't know how all that works, the whole business mixed with pleasure thing," she shrugged, continuing to hand out food. "I'm not inviting all that many people. Just my former landlord and his wife, the real estate agent who helped me find the house, co-workers and their families, and you, of course. There will be plenty of food and wine. I really hope you can both make it."

"If the food is going to be anything like this," Mary noted, gesturing with her fork, "you can count me in. This is delicious! It's a good thing we don't do this too often. Otherwise, I'd have to take up some sort of exercise or something to work it off."

"Count me in, too," Marshall agreed. Then, taking a bite, he chewed thoughtfully. "Lime, cilantro, garlic … and something I can't quite make out."

"It's tequila," Jessica supplied. "I marinate the chicken in the mixture overnight. It really soaks up the flavors."

"I hope you brought us breath mints," Mary told her. "If Stan gets a whiff, he's never going to believe that all we had was chicken at lunch."

"I brought a whole handful," she assured her. Taking a bite of her own food, she asked, "So what's going on? You sounded as if it was fairly urgent."

Mary took a deep breath, then let it out. "David McArthur called me yesterday. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Jessica focused on her intently as she asked, "What is it?"

"The other witness to the shooting of your husband and son was killed two days ago," Mary replied quietly.

"Mr. Tucker?" she questioned in dismay, her eyes wide. "He was so kind to me at the hospital after the accident."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Mary offered sincerely.

Her expression turned from one of shock into one of suspicion. "When you say he was killed, you don't mean he was struck by lightning or hit by the random bus, do you?"

"No. He was stabbed to death by someone most likely associated with the men who attacked your family."

"I thought he was in Witness Protection, too! How did that happen?"

"He, his wife, and his two children were relocated right after the accident," Mary confirmed. "But it seems they sent an e-mail to Mrs. Tucker's parents soon afterwards. They didn't reveal their location, they just let their family know they were all right. Then about a week ago, Mrs. Tucker's mother was run off the road and ended up in the hospital. The Tuckers were contacted through e-mail by family members, informing them of the accident, and they flew back to Harrisburg to see her. They thought that if they used their new identities, no one would be the wiser and there would be no harm done. But when Mr. Tucker was leaving the hospital that evening, someone stabbed him in the parking lot. He was dead before anyone even found him."

"Oh, God! His family must be devastated!" Jessica exclaimed softly. "Would it be possible for me to get a message to them? A card, maybe? I'd like to express my sympathy and tell them how much his kindness meant to me."

"I can get a message to them through David McArthur," Mary nodded.

"I'd appreciate that. I'll get something to you in the next few days."

"You need to know that Mrs. Tucker's mother being run off the road was no coincidence, Jess. It was a set-up to lure the Tuckers out of hiding. The guys looking for you are serious bad-asses. We still don't know how they found out about the e-mails, but somehow they did. Then all they had to do was wait for the right opportunity."

"That's why it's so important to adhere to WITSec rules," Marshall added. "They're put in place for good reason. One seemingly innocent slip-up can mean the difference between life and death."

Shaking her head, she insisted, "I haven't broken any of the rules. I haven't contacted anyone, anywhere, and I haven't said anything to anyone here about my past."

"We know you haven't," Mary agreed. "And as long as you continue doing that, you'll be all right. In the history of the Marshal's Service, no one in the program who followed the rules has ever been tracked down in their new location and found by the people looking for them."

Jessica rested her chin in her hand and looked away thoughtfully for a moment, then turned back to them. "So now I'm the only witness, right?"

Mary nodded. "Yes, you are."

"What does that mean for the prosecution? Are they still going to go ahead with the case?"

"They will," Marshall confirmed. "Your eye-witness testimony alone could very well put the defendants away for life, or earn them a lethal injection."

"Do you have a trial date yet?"

"Not yet," Mary replied. "The defense has filed motion after motion, slowing the process as much as they can in order to stall. David said there are at least three more hearings before a date will be set. It isn't unusual for these things to drag on for a year or two. Meanwhile, the bad guys are going to continue trying to eliminate witnesses, which in this case, leaves only you."

"So the real danger for me will come when I return to testify," she concluded.

"Yes, but we will literally be there every step of the way to protect you," Marshall assured her. "We take a lot of precautions. They would have to get through us first and we're very good at what we do. We haven't lost a witness during a trial yet."

"All you have to do is follow the rules … and trust us," Mary added.

Jessica studied them silently, then nodded. "I do trust you." She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. "I just wish it was over."

"It will be – in time," Mary promised.

***Mary swiveled her chair to face Marshall's desk. "Listen to this," she told him, holding up a greeting card.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed. "You _read_ Jessica's sympathy card?"

"Well, yeah. I had to make sure it didn't contain anything that might give away her location or new identity," she explained matter-of-factly.

"That's a good excuse to cover the fact that you're just plain nosy," he retorted.

"It is a good excuse, isn't it?" she agreed, rather pleased with herself.

"Yeah, well, I'm not buying it and I don't think it's appropriate to bandy about her personal thoughts and feelings without her knowledge."

"Oh, but you need to hear this. I think you'll find it quite interesting," Mary insisted, getting up to move to the chair beside his desk. Opening the card, she read, "'Dear Mrs. Tucker, I am writing in order to express my deepest sympathy at the loss of your husband. Although you don't know me, I felt compelled to write to you. Your husband's agreement to testify on behalf of my family is the reason his life was taken from him, since he was an eye-witness to the murder of my husband and son. I want you to know that his selfless act and the kindness he showed to me in the hospital after the accident will never be forgotten. When my world was falling apart, he held my hand and offered the strength of his convictions for support. He put the welfare of others ahead of his own and will forever hold a place in my heart as a true hero in every sense of the word. I know these words may bring little or no comfort to you at this devastating time, but I hope you will at least understand that they are offered sincerely, with heart-felt sadness and grief, as well as unspeakable anger at the injustice we have both experienced. Please know that my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family,' signed, Rose Lawrence."

As Mary folded the card closed, from behind her Eleanor's voice said softly, "That was truly beautiful."

Looking over her shoulder, she took note of the other woman's misty-eyed expression and gave her a sympathetic nod. "It was, wasn't it? I think it will mean a lot to Mrs. Tucker, maybe help ease her grief a little."

"It should," Eleanor agreed quietly. "It certainly should."

As she retreated to her own desk, Mary turned back to her partner. "I didn't read this to you in order to 'bandy about' Jessica's private expression of grief, as only a nerd like you would say, by the way," she noted pointedly, rolling her eyes. "After hearing what she wrote, do you still think I'm worried about her for nothing? Does it sound to you like she's successfully dealt with her anger on her own?"

Marshall let out a heavy sigh. "Not so much. But if she won't talk to us, there's little we can do about it. The decision to share her thoughts and feelings or not is hers alone to make. We can't force her."

"Although I'm sure I'll live to regret admitting it to you, I took your advice and talked to Shelly Finkel about the situation. She said she'd be glad to meet with Jess if that's what we all agree to, but she thinks that rather than not asking the right things in the right way, Jessica's reason for not talking to us might have something more to do with who was doing the asking."

With a confused frown, he asked, "What?"

"Shelly thinks Jessica might be more comfortable confiding in a male. Since she hasn't said word one about her past, we have no idea what relationships were important to her. It's possible she may have been very close to her father or to another male figure in her life, and would normally turn to a man during a time of stress. So she might sooner talk to you than to me or both of us together."

He grew thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose."

Leaning her crossed arms on his desk, she said, "I was thinking: This upcoming open house might provide an opportunity for you to spend a little one-on-one time with her. The invitation lists the length of the party as 2 to 5:00. What if we arrive, say, three-ish and then I have Raph pick me up some time later? You can make up some excuse to stay until the rest of the guests leave and see if you can get her to talk to you afterwards."

"Let me see if I understand this," he responded slowly. "You want me to hang out at a party on a Saturday for more than two hours with mostly strangers, on the outside chance that a witness of yours will spill her guts to me? I have a better idea. Why don't we set something up where we take her to lunch and then you have a sudden 'emergency' and leave us alone? That makes much more sense."

"She's going to be a lot more comfortable and relaxed in her own home than sitting somewhere with people around," Mary pointed out. "And it's more likely she'll be willing to share what are surely going to be painful and very personal feelings with you when she's comfortable. It's the perfect opportunity and we might not get another one." She reached out to grip his upper arm and tug at it cajolingly. "Come on, what do you say? If for no other reason than to give your partner a little peace of mind, will you do this? Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

"Okay, okay," he gave in, holding up his hand. "I'll do it. But you owe me."

"Anything you want, including my firstborn," she promised with a smile. She then added, "Especially my firstborn – you know how I feel about kids."

***"I don't remember what we were talking about," Mary admitted. "I just remember what she said. I mean, seriously, what are the odds that I would hear that same oddball expression come out of two different mouths in the course of two separate conversations, _in my one lifetime_? Seriously."

"'Bandy about' is not an oddball expression," Marshall insisted. "I hear it all the time."

"Well, yeah, maybe in the nerd circles you and Shelly run in, but not among normal people. The two of you need to get out more."

"I can't speak for her, but I get out plenty," he assured her. Motioning ahead, he asked, "Is that where we turn?"

"It is," she nodded. As she checked her hair in the sun visor mirror, she added, "I'm starving. I've hardly eaten anything all day, knowing I was coming here. I hope we're not too late for the food."

"She's a caterer, Mare. I'm sure she's capable of figuring out how much food is needed for her own event. What time is Raphael coming to pick you up?"

"He said he'd be here around 4:30 or so. He's going to text me when he's close." Leaning over toward him to get a good look at the road ahead, she observed, "There sure are a lot of cars here. Do you see a place to park?"

"I think I see a spot up ahead," he replied.

"This looks like a lot more people than she originally indica… Holy Moly!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" he asked in alarm, quickly checking the rearview and side mirrors. "Am I going to hit something?"

"Look at the house!"

Turning his head to glance out of her window as they slowly drove past, he let out low whistle. "Geez! She wasn't kidding when she said we were going to be pleasantly surprised."

"If I hadn't been here before and seen it with my own eyes, no one would've ever been able to convince me that this is the same house. Even after seeing it with my own eyes I'm skeptical. How is this even possible?"

Pulling to the side of the road, Marshall responded, "With a great deal of hard work, I'll venture."

After getting out, they walked the short distance back to the house.

"Sounds like quite a party," Mary noted as they drew closer. "I still feel like we should've brought a house-warming gift, though."

"The invitation stated 'no gifts'," he reminded her. "To bring something would have been inappropriate and inconsiderate to the other guests who actually read and adhered to the hostess' wishes."

"Whatever you say, Miss Manners. Have you figured out how you're going to work things so that you stay after everyone else leaves?"

"Nope. I'm just going to wing it," he replied, sounding totally unconcerned.

Reading from a note posted on the door, Mary said, "'Come on in'." With a shrug, she added, "Must be expecting us."

When she opened the door and took a step in, she stopped in her tracks and her mouth dropped open. Marshall nudged her forward enough to close the door as she exclaimed, "Oh my God! Look at this place! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Looking around, he agreed, "I am impressed. Who would've thought _this_ was under all that old paint and dirt?"

She slowly turned around in a circle. "I love the earth tones. Everything looks so crisp and clean. And she was right about the hardwood floors. They're beautiful." Pointing to the far wall, she added, "Look at the stone on the fireplace. Is that awesome, or what? I didn't even notice a fireplace the first time we were here."

"That's because it was covered with grime. She used it as a focal point and pulled the colors for the paint from the rocks," he observed. "I like that."

Smiling politely as they wound their way through the crowded living room, the pair spotted Jessica near the kitchen. When she saw them approaching, she immediately excused herself from the couple she was visiting with and came toward them with a bright smile.

"Mary!" she exclaimed, hugging her happily. "I didn't think you were going to make it."

"Something came up and we didn't get here as soon as we wanted, but we wouldn't have missed it," Mary assured her.

Standing on tip-toe, Jessica hugged Marshall in turn. "It's so good to see you both."

"It's good to see you, too," he replied, slightly surprised by the gesture but bending to return it nonetheless. "The house looks incredible."

"Did you take the tour?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

"Not yet," Mary answered. "We just came in."

A woman suddenly appeared beside them and addressed Jessica. "The pesto potatoes are running low. Do you want me to put more out?"

"Today you're a guest – you're not here to work. I'll take care of it," Jessica told her, then took her by the arm. "Marshall Mann, Mary Shepherd, this is Sierra Carson. She works with me and has quickly become my right hand." While they shook hands with the young woman, Jessica explained, "I met Mary and Marshall when I first moved here. In fact, they helped me find my first apartment."

"It's nice to meet you," Mary acknowledged.

"Come to the kitchen with me," Jessica invited, motioning to the marshals. "The food is set up buffet-style in there."

As they followed her, Marshall looked around in confusion. "Didn't there used to be a wall here?"

"There was," she confirmed. "I knocked it out to open things up between the kitchen and dining area. It gave me the space I needed to expand and put an island in the kitchen."

"I can't believe this is the same house we saw only months ago," Mary told her, shaking her head in awe. "To be perfectly honest with you, I thought you had completely lost your mind when you first showed it to us."

Letting out a laugh, Jessica admitted, "So did the real estate agent. He had much the same reaction as you earlier this afternoon."

Nodding, Marshall noted, "This is really nice. I like the tile you chose in here."

"Next to the master bedroom, the kitchen is my favorite room in the house," Jessica agreed, taking a large dish from the fridge. "I think it turned out well."

"Where did you find the furniture?" Mary questioned. "It all looks like antiques."

"Most of it came from second-hand shops," Jessica confirmed as she dished out potatoes. "But I didn't pay as much as you would for actual antiques." Gesturing to a stack of plates, she added, "Why don't you have something to eat? There's plenty of food to go around."

With a smile, Mary replied, "I thought you'd never ask."

***Taking a sip of her wine, she inspected their surroundings. "This is the brightest room I think I've ever seen. Don't you love the bed?"

"It's a poster bed," Marshall informed her with a nod. "I like the height."

Mary moved to stand in front of double French doors that looked out on the yard. "This place looks like it's straight out of Better Homes and Gardens. How can one person have such vision, to be able to see past what was here to this?"

"Some people just have that gift. Come and look at the bathroom. She took in the small, fourth bedroom to add it to the master and make a suite."

She did as he said, her eyebrows arching. "Now this is a bathroom!" Strolling in, she opened a door and flipped the light switch.

"I don't think the tour includes her closet, Mary," he protested.

"Then she should've put up a sign that says 'off limits'," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed from within. "Her clothes are organized by type and color! Who the hell does that?"

"Well … I do," he admitted hesitantly. "It makes it easier to get dressed in the mornings."

"Am I the only normal person left on the planet?" she muttered to herself as she turned off the light and closed the door. Checking her phone for the time, she said, "Come on. Raph will be here soon and I don't want to miss out on dessert."

***"Thank you so much for inviting me, Jess," Mary told her, giving her another hug. "The food was excellent, as always, and the house is absolutely gorgeous. I freely admit that I was dead wrong about it. You have succeeded in thoroughly impressing me."

"I'm glad you came and glad you like it. I wish you could stay longer, though. We didn't get to visit much."

"I have some family business to attend to that I just couldn't get out of." Gesturing to the back yard, she added, "Marshall is still gawking, so keep an eye on him. You could probably rope him into helping you clean up later on. He's actually pretty handy."

"I'll tell him you volunteered him," she nodded with amusement.

Checking her phone, Mary noted, "I'd better not keep my ride waiting. I'll call you next week and we'll set up a day for lunch."

"Sounds good. Take care and enjoy the rest of your weekend."

***Closing the front door, Jessica made her way through the finally-quiet living room, picking up a stack of plates and several glasses on the way to the kitchen. "Mary mentioned that you were handy," she noted, setting the plates beside the sink.

"Did she now?" Marshall queried, adding an arm load of wine glasses to the rest.

"She did. And it looks like she was right." Setting a large tray on the counter, she told him, "You don't have to help clean up. I'm sure you have better things to do with your Saturday evening."

"Actually, I was hoping that you would have a few minutes to explain how you did some of the renovations, but I didn't want to drag you away from your other guests earlier. I'm particularly interested in how you removed the wall over there. It couldn't have been easy."

Looking at him curiously, she asked, "Are you thinking of renovating your own place?"

"I live in an apartment. But Mary bought a house several years ago and I've been thinking ever since that I might enjoy being a homeowner. Seeing what you did here has made we wonder if an old house is the way to go. They have so much more charm than newer homes, and I really like how this turned out."

With a smile, she said, "Thanks. I enjoyed working on it. And if I can do it, you certainly can. It's only a matter of finding the right property."

"Why don't I help you clean up a little and then you can give me a personal tour?" he suggested. "You might just convince me."

"All right," she nodded slowly. "But the clean up will be easy. The plates and glasses go in these trays and the trays go in the van. Monday I'll take them to work and pop them in the commercial dishwashers. The trays slide right in."

"Sounds easy enough. If you hand me one, I'll take it and collect the dishes from outside."

***"The Astro Jump was a big hit with the kids," Marshall acknowledged, inspecting the back yard.

"I thought they needed something to do besides run rampant through the house. I saw a few adult-sized kids in there as well." Motioning ahead, Jessica noted, "The board fence is temporary. I'm going to replace it with a rail fence all around. I like the Southwest look. I put up the board one mostly to hide the weeds and keep kids from wandering down to the barn during the open house."

"There's a barn?"

"A fairly large one at the back of the property," she nodded.

"I love old barns. Is it included in the tour?"

"Of course," she replied with a smile, leading the way to the back fence. Once they were through the gate, they strolled along a dusty path faintly worn into the dry grass.

"I remember you told us that this isn't your first renovation, and after seeing what you've done here, that's quite obvious," Marshall pointed out. "How did you learn to do everything?"

"A few years back, my husband's parents decided to downsize. Along with the two of us, his siblings and their spouses all pitched in to remodel the house before putting it on the market. My in-laws had lived in it for over 35 years so it needed a lot of updating. One of my husband's brothers is a contractor and I learned almost everything from him."

"And the other renovation you worked on was your own home?"

"Yes, it was. My husband and I decided to move the year before our son started kindergarten, to be in a better school district. I received my real estate license around the same time, so I spent several months looking for the right house. We finally bought the worst house in a nice neighborhood and remodeled it. When it was sold a few months back, I used the proceeds to buy Blanche's interest in the catering business. It brought a nice profit."

"You and James must have done a good job on it if you made money in this market." Glancing sideways, he added, "It must've been difficult to remodel this house without his help. I'm sure it brought back memories of the two of you working together."

"Not really," she shrugged. "There was so much to do, I didn't really have time to think about it."

Taking a deep breath, he prodded gently, "Surely there are times when you do think of him and your son, of the life you had before. It has to be painful."

She was quiet for a moment, walking along beside him. Then, focusing on a point somewhere off in the distance, she said, "You know, I find it curious that so many of the conversations I have with you and Mary seem to take a similar direction." Looking over at him, she asked, "Exactly why is that?"

Put on the spot as he was, he decided that honesty was most likely the best policy. "Because Mary and I know you've been through something that the majority of people in this world can't even imagine in their worst nightmares. And we know that for all intents and purposes, you're completely alone in dealing with it. You can't share your past life or identity with anyone else, which means that you have no one else to confide in."

Stopping, she turned to look up at him curiously. "No offense, but what makes the two of you so sure that I need to confide in someone?"

"Because everyone does, Jess," he replied gently, facing her. "The unique circumstances necessitate it. With the very rare exception, everyone who comes into WITSec has varying degrees of resentment and anger. Most are very vocal about it, about how unfair it all is, how they don't want to leave their lives and loved ones behind. It's normal to feel and express those things. Suppressing those feelings, though, won't help you to readjust. The only way to move on is to let the anger and pain out, then you can let it go."

Jessica looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at him. Her voice was quiet and her eyes were serious as she insisted, "I've worked really hard to accept that this is where my life is and has to be now. Dwelling on the past and all the things that happened, things that no one can change, is pointless. And talking about it will only keep it fresh in my mind and make it more likely that I'll let something about my past slip out around others. Keeping a lid on it all has allowed me to function and put it behind me. I thought that was supposed to be the ultimate goal of everyone coming into the program."

Marshall shook his head slowly. "Keeping a lid on your feelings is not the answer. They're never going to go away if you do. It will be like an open wound that just won't heal. The stress of keeping your former life and identity a secret, or the prospect of having to eventually testify against the men who killed your family, is going to cause those feelings to eventually explode. It's like a bottle with a cork: apply enough heat to the bottom and sooner or later the cork will fly out of the top. It's only a matter of time."

She turned and began walking again, contemplating his words as he fell into step beside her. Finally she noted, "Surely you have to accept that there are exceptions to every rule. How do you know I haven't found a way to deal with my circumstances on my own? I'm a lot more content than many of the people I work with on a daily basis. That has to say something."

"Mary and I have been doing this for a long time and we are, by necessity, keen observers of human nature. While it's true that each person is different in the way they handle being relocated and all that goes with it, some things are common to everyone. There are issues that need to be addressed, particularly when a witness has experienced a violent incident like you have. I'm sure you've heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

With a surprised look, she asked, "Are you implying I'm suffering from PTSD?"

"I think it's entirely possible. In fact, I think it's likely, given what you experienced."

"And what makes you think that when I haven't told you anything about my experience?"

"Your refusal to talk about any part of what happened to virtually the only two people on the planet you _can_ discuss it with is a symptom in itself," he explained. "It's called avoidance. There are other symptoms as well. Have you had any panic attacks or flashbacks?"

"No, I haven't."

"What about nightmares?" he queried.

She was silent for a moment before replying, "Not as much as at first."

Marshall glanced at her, slightly surprised that she had even admitted as much to him. "And what about being nervous or on edge for no reason? Anything like that?"

"I'm in the Federal Witness Protection Program," she pointed out dryly. "I think I can safely say that I have good reason for being a little nervous now and then."

He gave her a quick smile. "Okay, I'll give you that one. But the answers to those questions just won you the trifecta. They are classic PTSD symptoms from each of the three categories used to diagnose the disorder."

"I see," she acknowledged slowly. "I suppose now you're going to suggest that I see a shrink."

With a nod, he agreed, "WITSec has an excellent counseling program. If you want to speak with a professional, it can be arranged."

"I don't," she quickly assured him. "I'm not a fan of doctors."

"Then that leaves Mary and me," he concluded. "We've had training and a great deal of experience helping people through those issues."

She stopped again a few feet from the barn and looked up at him intently. "So … you're offering to be my shrink?"

Looking down at her, he noticed, not for the first time, what an unusual color of green her eyes were. "Certainly, if that's what would help. Mary has been worried about you for a long time. We're both here to help. All you have to do is let us."

Continuing to the barn, she noted, "You said Mary was worried. You don't share her concern?"

"I didn't at first," he admitted. "You actually seem to be one of our better-adjusted witnesses. But she had some valid arguments and sometimes she sees things that I don't." As she unlatched the large double doors, he added, "Also, I had a witness that committed suicide recently, in a very unusual way. Mary and I were there when it happened. The incident has made us more cautious."

They both entered the cool, stale air of the barn and Marshall surveyed the cavernous space. Then, glancing over he frowned. "This is where a normal person would've already assured me that they aren't suicidal, that the thought had never even crossed their mind."

"I'm not suicidal," she confirmed without hesitation. With a shrug, she admitted, "But I'd be lying if I said the thought had never crossed my mind, especially when I first came to Albuquerque, when everything was so difficult."

With a pang of sympathy, he reminded her gently, "You should've said something. Helping you through things like that is exactly what we're here for."

"It's like I told you in the beginning: I'm very self-sufficient. I'm not good at asking for or accepting help. And after I began working more, those feelings went away. It was just overwhelming in the beginning when everything was so … fresh."

"I'm sorry, Jess. I wish we had known. It isn't that we would've been able to take away all of your pain, but we would've listened and helped in any way we could."

"It's all right. Things are better now," she assured him with a faint smile. "Remodeling the house was good therapy. It gave me something to do with my mind and hands when I wasn't working at my paying job."

"And you have a lot to show for it. The house is beautiful." Tipping his head back to look up at the soaring roof line, he added, "The whole place is just great."

Brushing his arm with her fingers, she said, "Come on. I'll show you the rest of it."

***"Now that the house is pretty much finished, I'll start on the yard," Jessica replied in response to his query as they slowly walked to the front of the house. "Besides the fence and front porch, all I've really done is trim shrubs and water what little grass there is. The next step will be to put in a sprinkler system and lay out flower beds and walkways. I'm also thinking of building a deck across the back of the house and maybe another small one outside the French doors in the bedroom."

"A sprinkler system, huh?" Marshall mused, looking at her thoughtfully as she sat down on the front steps. "Could you use some help with that?"

"Sure," she readily agreed. "Do know someone looking for work?"

With a shrug, he answered, "Actually, I had myself in mind. If I'm going to become a homeowner someday, putting in a sprinkler system is something I should learn to do. In exchange for my help, you can teach me."

She looked at him incredulously. "You do understand what putting in a system entails, right? Digging trenches, laying down water lines, covering everything over and smoothing it out – it's dirty, back-breaking work. Are you sure you want to volunteer for that?"

"Positive," he nodded. "When do we start?"

Jessica studied him curiously for a moment, her head tilted slightly to one side. She finally responded, "I had planned to rent a trencher for next Saturday."

"What time do you want me to be here?"

"Anytime Saturday morning is fine. I work Friday night so I probably won't be up until around 8:00, but I plan to start right after breakfast."

"I'll be here. Call me if I can bring anything with me."

"I will," she promised, still regarding him thoughtfully.

Checking his watch, he said, "It's getting late so I'd better hit the road. Thank you for inviting me to the open house, and for the personal tour. I really enjoyed it."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you came. Take care driving home."

"I will. And I'll see you next Saturday morning."

"See you then."

Giving her a smile and a wave, he turned to walk to the truck.

He had only gotten a few steps away when she called, "Marshall." He stopped and turned around to face her questioningly. "What you asked me earlier, about my family … I do think about it, what I had before. Sunday is Silas' day. I spend the day thinking about him, about how he was, the things he used to do and say." With a sad shrug, she admitted a bit self-consciously, "Then I cry myself to sleep Sunday night, wake up Monday morning, and lock all of the memories back up. It's the only way I can get through the six days that follow. But I am getting through them. So tell Mary she can stop worrying."

Biting his lip, he slowly nodded, then said quietly, "Good-night, Jess."

***Marshall paced to the window of his apartment again, taking a swig from his water bottle. He had already gone for a long run on his favorite path that meandered along the cool waters of the Rio Grande, but he still felt tense and full of nervous energy. Looking out, he tried to tell himself that it was simply from the long work week and thinking again about Norman Baker after having brought up his suicide the day before. But deep down he knew better. Despite trying to distract himself, Jessica's last words to him the evening before had played over and over in his head. It was Sunday – he knew what that meant for her. And as if that wasn't disturbing enough, his own behavior was even more disconcerting to him. Normally, he would've already confided in his partner, especially given the fact that Jessica was her witness and he had been sent to speak with her at Mary's request. But something was holding him back. He just wasn't sure what that something was.

Turning around, he walked decisively to the kitchen and picked up his cell phone from the bar. Flipping it open, he hit a speed-dial number and settled onto a bar stool to wait.

Seconds later, Mary's voice said, "Yeah, Marshall. What's up?"

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"Since when would that matter?" she asked in annoyance. "Tell me what you want, already."

"I was wondering if you could give me Jessica's phone number. I want to ask her about something," he replied vaguely.

"Hold on a sec," she advised. After a few seconds, she relayed the requested information. Then she noted, "So I take it you had a chance to talk with her."

"I did," he confirmed.

When he didn't continue, she prompted impatiently, "And?"

"When I started asking questions, she became suspicious and asked why it seemed that every conversation with us seemed to take the same turn. So I decided to just be up front with her, and I told her we were worried. She didn't really go into specifics, but she was fairly open with me about some of the things she was feeling. I think you and Shelly were right about her responding better to a male."

"That's good," Mary acknowledged sincerely. "It sounds like you're on the right track. You should find a way to meet with her again and see if you can get her to be more specific."

"I agree. And, as a matter of fact, I am meeting with her again. She's putting in a sprinkler system next weekend and I volunteered to help. I thought it would give us a chance to talk more."

"A sprinkler system?" Mary questioned. "That sounds like work."

"It will be, but it was the only way I could think of to meet with her again at her home. Like you said, she seemed a lot more relaxed and open in that setting."

"Well, good luck. Just don't let me hear you bitch about sore muscles and being tired next Monday morning. Keep in mind that you volunteered for the job."

"Your lack of sympathy is duly noted," he pointed out dryly. "Especially considering that she's your witness and you asked me to speak with her. I even seem to remember the promise of a firstborn when you were twisting my arm – literally."

"Oh, you know you love playing hero. This kind of assignment is right up your alley," she contended. "Is that all you needed? Raph and I are leaving to get something to eat in a few minutes."

"There is one other thing. Jessica told me to tell you that she's coping, and that you shouldn't worry about her."

"Aw, how nice of her to be concerned about my feelings," she responded with sarcastic sweetness. Then she added resolutely, "It's going to take a lot more than her little assurances before I'm convinced, though. Keep me updated on how things go with her."

"I will. See you tomorrow, Mare. You and Raph have fun."

"We always do," she confirmed.

***He stood in front of his living room window again, looking out on the apartment complex common area. The phone he held to his ear rang several times before he heard her voice answer, "Hello."

"Jess? This is Marshall. I was wondering how you were doing today."

"I'm fine," she replied, sounding somewhat surprised. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I went for a long run this morning and that always makes me feel like I've accomplished something."

"I'll have to keep that in mind and give it a try sometime," she responded.

"About next weekend," he began, "I was wondering if you wanted me to pick up the trencher on my way to your place. It might save you some time or an extra day's rent on it."

"That's a great idea," she readily agreed. "I had intended to pick it up Friday afternoon before work, so if you get it Saturday morning it will save the cost for that half a day."

"Good. I'll call you Friday morning and you can tell me where to get it."

"I'll reserve it ahead of time. Thanks for the offer."

He paused, trying to think of a way to bring up the real reason for contacting her since she had only responded briefly, with customary politeness, to his initial query. Finally, he said hesitantly, "Uh, look, Jess … The main reason I called was to see how you were really doing. After what you said last evening, I know this is a difficult day for you. I wanted to let you know that I'm here if you need to talk to someone."

She was quiet for several seconds longer than a comfortable pause and he began to worry that he had said the wrong thing in bringing it up. He was about to apologize when she replied quietly, "That was a very nice thing to say. I'm doing okay, though, really. Some Sundays are worse than others. Today isn't too bad. But I am glad you called."

There was relief in his voice as he said, "I just thought you should know that I was thinking about you. And that you can call me anytime you feel the need. I'm a pretty good listener."

He was sure he could hear a smile in her voice. "Something else I'll have to keep in mind. Thank you for calling, Marshall. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I'll be in touch with you later in the week."


	3. Chapter 3

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 3

"Of course it's affecting his judgment. He wouldn't always take her side if they weren't sleeping together," Mary pointed out.

"Whether or not they're sleeping together has little to do with it," Marshall argued. "When Eleanor came to us, she was this sweet little proper lady who probably hadn't so much as raised her voice to anyone in decades. A few months sparing with you and she's developing a potty mouth that could make a sailor blush. Stan's just protecting the weak among us."

"And I'm just helping her uncover what was hidden behind that sweet façade all along. I'm actually doing her a favor," she insisted. Checking her watch, she added, "I'm starving. Are you ready for lunch?"

"It's a little early but I could eat," he agreed.

"Damn. That reminds me: I told Jessica I would call her so we could get together for lunch one day this week, and it's already Wednesday. She probably thinks I blew her off."

"We don't have much going on this afternoon that we have to rush back to the office for," he noted. "Maybe she can meet us today."

"Maybe." She scrolled down her contact list and selected a number. After a few seconds, she said, "Hey, Jess, this is Mary Shepherd. What are you doing for lunch today?"

"Working," Jessica replied. "We're setting up to cater a luncheon. Why?"

"Marshall and I were hoping you could meet us. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier in the week. Today is the first day we haven't been knee deep in paperwork."

"No problem. I've been swamped as well or I would've called you. And I'm tied up tomorrow and Friday too. If we're going to do lunch, it will have to be one day next week."

"I'll have to call you. We'll be out of town for at least a couple of days."

"Call when you get back. There's no rush on my end," she assured her.

"All right. We'll talk then."

"Oh wait, Mary, before you go, would you mind if I talked to Marshall for a sec?"

Glancing over at him, she replied, "Um, no, not at all. Here he is." Handing her Blackberry to him, she told him, "She wants to talk to you."

Accepting the phone, he then fixed his eyes back on the street ahead. "Hey, Jess, what's going on?"

"I wanted to let you know that there's been a change in plans for this weekend," she explained. "Instead of putting in the sprinkler system, I'm going to start the deck on the side of the house. I'm setting the piers in cement later this afternoon when I wrap up things at work, so I should be able to finish the deck by next weekend. If you're still interested, I'll start the sprinkler system then."

"I'm definitely still interested," he assured her. "But building a deck from scratch sounds interesting, too. Could you use some help with that?"

"Well, sure," she responded slowly, sounding surprised, "but I don't want to take advantage."

"You wouldn't be. It sounds like fun. Is Saturday morning after 8:00 still good for you?"

"It is."

"I'll give you a call Friday and you can let me know what I need to bring."

"All right, then, we'll talk Friday."

When he glanced over to hand Mary's phone back to her, he found her staring at him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked.

"'It sounds like fun'," she repeated. "What was that all about?"

"Instead of putting in a sprinkler system this weekend like she had planned, she's building a deck. I offered to help."

"You're going to help her this weekend _and_ next? Is there something I should know about?"

He threw his hands up in the air, briefly leaving the steering wheel unattended. "You ask me to spend time with your witness, then you give me the third degree when I actually comply," he complained. "What does it take to make you happy?"

"Okay, okay, calm down," she advised. "I should've realized that you're simply being your normal Marshall-to-the-rescue self." She added sincerely, "And I do appreciate it. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that," he agreed. "What would you do without me?"

"Probably get myself fired for punching Eleanor," she muttered as she looked out of the window.

***"I put a lot more piers in than I normally would have for a deck this small," Jessica explained, pointing to the cement supports set into the ground in front of them. "It needs to be able to hold a lot of weight for the hot tub."

Marshall's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Hot tub?"

Smiling excitedly, she told him, "I bought a hot tub this week from one of my clients who's replacing hers with a new one. It isn't something I planned, but when the opportunity arose I couldn't pass it up. She didn't want much for it as long as someone would pick it up before the new one arrived. And it looks like it's hardly been used. That's why I put the sprinkler system off for another week."

"How are you getting it here?" he asked.

"The husband of one of my employees is going to pick it up and deliver it to me. He's in construction and has a trailer it will fit on. It's arriving on Thursday."

"Well, then, we'd better get to work," he decided with a smile.

***As he strolled from the bathroom, his hair neatly combed but still wet after a much-needed shower, Marshall made a mental note to replenish with clean clothes the overnight bag he perpetually kept in his vehicle for those unexpected, spur of the moment, out of town jaunts his work occasionally required. Tucking the tail of his oxford shirt into his jeans, he was feeling particularly mellow. He and Jessica had worked all day side by side and the experience had been a pleasant one. He smiled to himself when he recalled just how pleasant.

He was, in fact, feeling so relaxed that he had all but forgotten his original purpose for being there. Although they had chatted all day while working, not once during the long day had he asked her about anything pertaining to the events that had preceded her arrival in Albuquerque. The thought had not even crossed his mind.

"Can I help with anything?" he asked as he entered the kitchen.

"You can grab the plates and silverware," Jessica answered, placing a dish in the middle of the barstool-surrounded island.

Having complied, he set a place for both of them. "Anything else?" he queried.

"I think that's everything," she replied, placing a last dish between them.

Within minutes, they were settled across from each other.

After sampling a bite from his plate, Marshall closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Mmmm. This salmon is perfect. You know, you could probably get me to work for you every day if you paid me in food."

"Feeding you is the very least I can do," Jessica assured him, handing him a glass of iced tea. "I can't believe how much we accomplished. I'll easily be able to finish the trim tomorrow. You worked like a man possessed today."

"And I can see how you were able to remodel this house in the short time you did. You're a hard worker, too."

"Thanks." After taking a sip of tea, she noted, "It's fairly obvious that you've had some experience with a nail gun."

"I help out on my grandparent's ranch whenever I get the chance. There's always one project or another to work on out there."

"Well, if you ever wanted to change careers, you could easily go into construction. Or maybe architecture would better suit you. The suggestions you made on the deck turned out great. I love the curved design, versus the boring, ordinary rectangle I had planned."

"I enjoyed the work today, but I think I'll keep my day job," he informed her with a smile.

"What made you decide to become a marshal?" she asked curiously before taking a bite of salad.

"My father is a marshal, as was my grandfather, my great-grandfather, and my great-great-grandfather," he explained. "It's sort of in the blood."

"Wow. That's quite the legacy. So how soon did you know you wanted to follow in their footsteps?"

"When I was about three, as soon as I was old enough to play with my Daddy's badge."

Jessica let out a laugh. "That's pretty early to make a career decision."

"I never wanted to do anything else," he admitted. "The only time I ever cut class at school was on career day. I just didn't see the point."

"I'll bet your family is proud," she acknowledged with a smile.

"I suppose my Dad is. My Mom worries, like she did for Dad all while I was growing up. But she knew there was no use fighting it."

Her expression grew wistful as she said, "You sound like you're close to your family."

"I am," he agreed. "What about you? Were you close to your parents?"

"At times," she shrugged after chewing a bite. "My sister's death was really hard on them. My mother never got over it. She kind of checked out mentally and emotionally after that. My Dad threw himself into his work and was away a lot. So I was kind of left to my own devices for the most part. When their health started to decline, I began spending more time with them. I was able to sort of reconnect with my Dad, at least. He had cancer and my mother developed Alzheimer's. At the end, she didn't even know who I was."

"That must have been heart-breaking," he noted sympathetically. "Was James supportive in your taking care of them?"

"He had his moments when he resented the amount of time it took, but for the most part he was. I had a really good relationship with his parents, so I think he finally realized that if it became necessary I would give them the same kind of care. That kind of improved his outlook."

Marshall watched her for a moment, reluctantly recalling his mission, wondering if he should take the opening or let it go and simply enjoy the evening. Mary's voice in his head finally won out and he said, "When you mention your husband, you speak kindly of him. You never sound angry. In your position, I don't think I could be so magnanimous."

Jessica shook her head without actually looking at him. "I'm not angry with him."

"His actions were responsible for the loss of your son," he reminded her gently. "How can you _not_ be angry with him?"

She took a long drink before responding in a flat, emotionless voice, "Getting involved with drug dealers was just James being James. He was always looking for his next get-rich-quick scheme. And for as long as I knew him, he was simply incapable of grasping the concept of consequences. I've never known anyone who could walk so blindly into something without ever being able to foresee a possible negative outcome. He lived for the moment with little thought to the future. Although he had never been involved in anything so blatantly illegal before, what he did was typical of him. I was, of course, furious and terrified when he told me, but not completely surprised."

"How long were you together?"

"We began dating in high school when we were sixteen, and married the summer after we graduated when we were eighteen." She added quietly, "We were kids, and we acted like kids at first. As time passed I grew up. I kept waiting for him to do the same, but it never happened."

"You were married a long time before you had a child," he pointed out.

"It wasn't intentional. We wanted a baby for years, but I couldn't seem to get pregnant. When the doctor finally confirmed that I was, I didn't believe her. She had to show me the test results," she admitted with a slight smile. "I had never been so happy in my whole life."

He studied her briefly, then shook his head. "So how can you not be angry at James for what he did, for all you lost?"

After a deep sigh, she replied, "James' lack of responsibility was a real source of conflict within our marriage. But I've always believed that you keep your promises, and that the 'until death' part of the marriage vow was meant to be literal. Whatever our personal problems and whatever he did or didn't feel for me, though, there was one fact never in doubt: he loved our son with every fiber of his being. He never would've done anything to hurt him intentionally."

"He chose to go to work for drug dealers. Whether he could foresee the outcome or not, he knew he was breaking the law. That makes him responsible for everything that happened as a result."

"And he paid for what he did," she insisted.

"By dying?" he questioned. "It hardly seems like enough for the pain he caused you."

"He paid with more than his life." Avoiding his eyes again, she explained, "After the accident, before the paramedics arrived on the scene, James came to and immediately asked about Silas. I had to tell him that our son was dead. There could be no greater punishment for him, knowing that he was to at least some degree responsible for the death of his son. I know that's why he never woke up from surgery. I'm completely convinced that he willed himself to die because he couldn't live with what he had done. He paid, what was for him, the ultimate price for his mistakes. That's why my being angry at him was, and is, pointless."

Her response was not something Marshall had anticipated and he could think of nothing to say for a moment. Finally, he quietly said the only thing he could. "I'm sorry, Jess, for what you went through." Trying to think of something helpful to say, he added, "Hopefully you'll get a little closure once the trial is over. I've had more than one witness tell me that they were better able to put the past behind them after they testified."

She shook her head slowly and closed her eyes. "The trial – it's like a black cloud hanging over my head. I didn't expect it to take this long. I get knots in my stomach just thinking about it."

"I know that facing the men who took your family from you is a frightening prospect, but Mary and I will be there to help you through."

"I'm not afraid to face them," she assured him. "I'm only afraid that I'll do or say something during my testimony that will screw up the case against them. It feels like such a huge responsibility."

"You shouldn't feel as though it's all on you. Even though you're the only remaining eyewitness, your testimony is still just one part of a group effort to put these people out of business. You also have to accept going in that you can do everything right and they still might not be convicted. There are too many variables involved. You have to be careful not to pin your hopes or future well-being on the outcome of the trial," he admonished. "Plenty of witnesses start out doing well in WITSec, and are then completely derailed after the trial when the verdict doesn't come back the way they want. Every witness has hopes and expectations going into the courtroom, but whether you hope for revenge, or justice, or just the chance to tell how what they did affected your life, you have to prepare yourself to accept the verdict the jury hands down, whatever that verdict may be – even if it's an acquittal."

"I can accept that. And I don't want revenge or even the chance to be heard," Jessica insisted, her eyes intense. "The reason I'm testifying is because I owe it to my son to try to keep someone else from having to pay the price he did and go through what I did at the hands of these people who have so little regard for human life. They need to be forced to acknowledge that the lives they took had value. I mean, how do they get to the point where they can kill innocent people simply as a by-product of doing business? The men who killed James could've just as easily targeted him when he was alone. Their fight was with him, not with anyone else. Why would they attack him when he was with his family, on a busy street, where others would be endangered as well? I don't understand that."

Marshall sipped his tea, trying to decide how to address the same questions he had been asked by so many other witnesses. The answers never came easily. "It was a matter of guilt by association. They couldn't take the chance that James had told you or your son something that would help identify them. Also, in their line of work human life has little value. There are always others to take the place of those who die along the way – other drug runners, other dealers, other customers. They don't see people as individuals; everyone is expendable."

After regarding him thoughtfully for a moment, she crossed her arms on the bar and leaned on them. "How do you deal with what you see? The tragedy, the violence, the broken lives? It has to get to you at times."

"It does at times," he admitted. "In our job we deal intimately with the aftermath of the tragedy and violence, and it can certainly take a toll. But helping people pick up the pieces and make a new life for themselves is the largest part of our job, and it can be very rewarding, especially when someone formerly involved in that sort of violent lifestyle takes the opportunity offered and turns their life around. The tragic circumstances that bring our witnesses to us would affect me a lot more if I couldn't do anything to help."

She smiled slightly, although the smile didn't actually reach her eyes. "That's good to know. Now I don't feel quite so bad about unloading on you, especially on what's technically your day off."

He gave her a genuine smile in return. "I've been trying to tell you all along that I'm a good listener." He added a little more seriously, "Anytime you need an ear, or a shoulder, I'm only a phone call away, Jess. And I'm not offering to help because I have to; I'm offering because I want to."

She looked at him, contemplating, then pointed out, "It hardly seems like a fair trade, for what you get out of it."

Gesturing to his empty plate, he replied happily, "Trust me: You keep feeding me like this and we'll be more than even."

Nodding, she readily agreed, "It's a deal."

***Mary glanced to her right at Marshall's sleeping witness. They were flying commercial and had encountered the same maddening delays experienced by the general public accompanying them. With the added route changes made to ensure the safety of the witness, they had been changing planes and traveling all day. Although she was dead tired as well, she knew sleep would elude her until they were safely surrounded by hotel room walls. It was always that way when they were escorting a witness.

Turning her head in the direction of the aisle, she studied her partner's profile as he read the financial magazine he had found tucked in the seatback in front of him. They had known their current trip would come at some point during the week, but they hadn't known until that morning that the prosecution would be ready for his witness the next day. With the hurried preparations, and the constant company of his witness, it was their first moment of being relatively alone all day.

"Are you just going to sit there and ignore me, or could you at least regale me with some of your pointless trivia to help me stay awake?" she asked in a hushed voice after he failed to notice that she was watching him.

Recognizing her I'm-bored-to-tears tone, he closed the magazine and gave her his full attention. "What would you like to talk about?" he asked equally quietly with a smile that was only slightly patronizing.

"Well, for starters, you could tell me how things went this weekend with Jessica."

"It went well. We spent most of the day working together."

"And were you able to get her to talk about the accident?"

With a nod, he answered, "We did discuss it some. She seems to open up a little more each time we visit. The first time we talked, she only referred to James as 'my husband'. She didn't use his name at all, and she only used Silas' name once. This time was different, although she still didn't talk much about Silas. I can tell it's difficult for her to do that yet."

"So what did she say about James?"

After a thoughtful sigh, he explained, "Well, for one thing, she isn't angry at him like we thought. She is, however, angry at the men who attacked them, specifically at their callous disregard for the innocent lives they endangered and destroyed when their beef was only with James."

"As well she should be, but why isn't she angry at James? It was his actions that brought them all into contact with those monsters."

"She said James was only being true to his nature in becoming involved with drug dealers. Evidently he was one of those people who are always looking for easy money, jumping from one scheme to another. It sounds like he was totally irresponsible. Jess said he was never able to look ahead and consider the possible consequences of his actions."

"Sounds like a wonderful husband and father," she noted sarcastically. "You said 'for one thing'. What's another?"

"She told me James died knowing he was responsible for the death of their son, and that there could be no greater punishment for him. As a result, she feels that her being angry at him is pointless."

Mary leaned her head back against the seat, thinking over what he had said. "I suppose there's a certain twisted sort of logic in there somewhere." Looking over at him, she asked, "Did she have anything else to say?"

"That she's afraid she'll do or say something wrong when she takes the stand, but isn't afraid to face the defendants and testify."

"Yeah, that's what they all say. It's a different story when they actually come face to face with the people who want to put them six feet under, though. Did you give her the acquittal-can-derail-you speech?"

"I did," he nodded. "She seems to understand."

"Let's hope so. The last thing we need is another witness going off the deep end."

"I can't see that happening. I don't get that feeling from her at all."

"Are you still planning to help her this coming weekend?"

"I'm sort of committed," he pointed out with a shrug. "I don't think it would be good for her to back out when she's just beginning to open up."

"You should get her to talk about Silas then," Mary advised. "Her son's death has to be a huge source of pain and anger for her. Talking about it, getting it out in the open, can only help."

Marshall frowned when the suggestion evoked a sudden, inexplicable feeling of protectiveness somewhere inside him. But with his partner waiting expectantly for his response, all he could do was push the feeling aside and answer, "If the opportunity presents itself, I will. I don't want to push her into something she isn't ready for, though. We're definitely making progress but it needs to continue at her pace. I'll have to play it by ear."

Mary nodded. "I'll have to trust your judgment on that. God knows I didn't get anywhere with her. Before you took over, I even considered watching the video in her file, the one from the accident scene, to see if there was something that might give me a handle on how to help her." Leaning back again and closing her eyes, she let out a long sigh. "I just couldn't bring myself to watch that level of suffering, though."

"It can't be pleasant," he agreed.

Looking at him thoughtfully, she said, "Maybe you should watch it. It might help you find a way to talk with her about her son. At the very least, it will help to know what she went through and how she reacted."

He contemplated a moment, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the thought. "Maybe," he replied noncommittally. "I'll think about it."

***"I'll meet you at the truck," Mary said as she left cash for her portion of lunch on the table. "I need to make a pit stop."

"Hurry up," he urged. "We have to be back at the office in fifteen."

She waved him off without replying, and he left his own payment on the table and headed out of the diner. On the way to the SUV, he took advantage of the moment alone to flip open his phone and make a call.

After a few seconds, he said, "Jess, this is Marshall."

"Hey. How are you?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "And you?"

"Tired. I had a couple of late jobs already this week and I'm preparing for the one tonight," she explained. "Are you back in town?"

"I am, and I was just calling to confirm our plans for tomorrow. Do you still want me to pick up the trencher?"

"Sure, that would be really helpful. I've already reserved it. You can pick it up anytime between 5 and 7PM today, or after 7 in the morning, whichever is convenient for you. The charge is the same either way."

"Where is it?"

"I don't have the address handy at the moment but I can text it to you in a few minutes, if that's all right."

"It is. What time do you want to get started?"

"Any time in the morning is fine with me."

"Anything else I need to bring?"

"Only a good pair of work gloves. The trencher will give you blisters, otherwise. Oh … and swimming trunks, if you want to try out the hot tub."

With a smile, he replied, "That goes without saying." Glancing over his shoulder to see Mary exiting the diner, he added, "I'll see you in the morning, Jess. Call me if there's anything else I can do."

"I will. Have a good day."

***Marshall sat at his desk, trying to focus on the reports in front of him. It wasn't that he was behind on his paperwork – of the two of them, Mary was the procrastinator. But ever-changing rules demanded ever-changing documentation. To update the files for several of his witnesses he was required to submit current housing statements. Being the stickler for details that he was, it was a job he normally would've tackled with relish. He just couldn't seem to concentrate, however.

In the four days since he and Mary had talked on the plane, the suggestion she had made about reviewing the recording in Jessica's file was proving to be a continual source of distraction. Part of him wished she had never mentioned it: Something about watching it seemed like a huge invasion of privacy to him, even though reviewing similar material was a normal part of their jobs. At the same time part of him felt compelled, not out of morbid curiosity, but out of what he tried to convince himself was a simple desire to help his partner's witness through the difficult adjustment to WITSec life. After attempting for days to sort out his feelings on the matter, though, it was another part of him that was causing the most confusion. Questioning his motives and feeling conflicted was beginning to be a part of every day life for him. Ever since Mary had announced her engagement, he had felt restless and unsettled. The pang he felt when he happened to catch sight of the ring on her finger, just before she pocketed it upon arriving at work, or when he heard the familiarity in her voice as she spoke to Raphael over the phone, was taking a toll. More and more, he had come to view the task of helping Jessica as a welcome distraction from his nagging, unresolved feelings for his partner. But that day, something had changed. He had been taken completely by surprise by the feeling of happiness he had felt upon hearing Jessica's voice after lunch. He found that he was eagerly anticipating the next day – much more than he should be if all he was really doing was trying to please his partner and help her witness.

"Marshall?" a voice queried, intruding on his introspection.

"Hmm?" he responded, looking up slightly dazed.

Eleanor stood in front of his desk, studying him curiously. "Is everything all right?"

"Uh, sure … Why do you ask?"

"Because you've been sitting there, staring off into space, for about twenty minutes now. Is there something I can help you with?"

He shook his head, looking down at the paperwork spread before him. "I'm just thinking about a case." Picking up his pen, he casually waved her off with a smile. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, I guess. It's been a long week."

"Okay," she nodded, still regarding him thoughtfully. "If I can do anything, let me know."

"I will, thanks."

While she returned to her own desk, he picked up a form and began to read it over. But after only a few seconds, he tossed it aside. Passing a hand over his face, he sighed, then suddenly gathered papers back into files and stood up. Making his way to Eleanor's desk, he handed several folders to her.

"Would you give these to Stan when he gets back and tell him that I took the remaining files home with me to work on this weekend? I just remembered an errand I have to run."

"Sure," she nodded, "I'll tell him. Anything else?"

"That's it," he informed her. "I need to grab something out of one of Mary's files before I go."

"Is she going to be back today?"

"No," he answered as he opened the filing cabinet behind his partner's desk. "She was going to check on one of her witnesses who's scheduled to testify in a few weeks, and head home from there." Rifling through the files, he pulled out a disk that was tucked into one, then closed the drawer.

"All right. Have a good weekend, Marshall."

He gathered his remaining files, along with the disk, and responded with a smile as he headed for the elevator, "Thanks, Eleanor. You, too."

***The image of a uniformed police officer running to a vehicle that had crashed into a traffic light pole was the first thing that leapt into view on the screen. As the officer leaned over to peer through the driver's window, the voice of his partner coming from inside the cruiser, requesting fire and rescue help, drowned out the words he was saying. When the first officer turned back toward the cruiser with a look of shock on his face, his partner scrambled out to meet him. The dashboard camera recorded the first officer putting a hand on the hood of the cruiser to steady himself, his face drained of all color.

"What is it?" the second demanded.

After taking some deep breaths, the first replied, "There's a boy … a little boy." Shaking his head, his voice was full of distress as he explained in a rush of words, "They were shot. The little boy was shot in the head. The mother is in the front seat with the father, trying to keep him from bleeding to death."

Gripping his partner's arm tightly, the second officer commanded, "We need more help. Call for back-up. I'm going to see what I can do."

The recording had obviously been edited since the next segment clearly came from the second officer's pocket video recorder. It showed a quick passage of the street ahead, then the side of the car, to finally settle on the occupants of the front seat as the officer leaned over. The scene inside was a bloody mess, with shattered glass sprinkled over everything. A man was slumped over in the driver's seat and a woman was pressing a small towel, already soaked beyond capacity, to his bleeding neck with one hand. Her other was covering another wound on the man's shoulder where more blood was seeping out. Her clothes were splotched with blood as well.

"I'm Sergeant Joe Harlan. An ambulance is on the way," he said quickly. "What's your name?"

The woman looked up, and although tears were streaming down her cheeks, her voice was completely emotionless as she answered, "Rose Lawrence."

"And this is your husband?"

"Yes – James."

The scene shifted slightly to capture a view of the back seat, then the camera quickly focused on the woman again. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I don't think so."

Footsteps approached and the officer turned to his partner. Speaking to him quietly, he said, "Go get the first aid kit and a blanket out of the trunk."

Turning back to the vehicle, he carefully opened the front car door and leaned down. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She looked at him blankly, as if she didn't understand his question. After a few seconds, she answered numbly, "There were two men in a blue car. They shot at us."

As the other officer returned with the requested supplies, Officer Harlan opened the back door and gently placed the blanket over the small form lying on the seat. He then turned and began pulling sterile bandages out of the first aid kit.

"Why don't you let me take over, Rose," he suggested.

She immediately shook her head. "I can do this." She then looked at him with pleading eyes and asked, "Can you help my son?"

The officer's voice was full of sympathy as he replied, "Help is on the way."

After a little more footage from the officer, as well as some from the dashboard recorder showing rescue vehicles arriving, the scene changed to what appeared to be a small conference room. The quality of the video was of a much higher grade and the camera was stationary, as if set up on a tripod. Rose came into camera view seconds later, dressed in clean hospital scrubs, and accompanied by Officer Harlan. They both sat down at a table as two other men entered the room behind them.

"Mrs. Lawrence, my name is David McArthur and I'm a prosecutor with the U.S. Attorney's office," one of the men said. Turning to his right, he added, "This is Orin Nash with the U.S. Marshal's Service in Philadelphia." After they had both taken a seat at the conference table, he continued, "Officer Harlan here and his partner have already filled us in on what happened, but I'd like to hear it from you, if you don't mind. Can you answer a few questions?"

Rose nodded vacantly. "I think so."

"First of all, can you tell me where you were going when you were attacked?"

"We were on our way to visit my in-laws."

"Is that something you do every Sunday, as part of your normal routine?"

"For the most part, yes."

"So what happened today?"

She frowned as she stared at the table. "It all happened so fast. It's hard to remember."

"Just tell us what you do remember," he encouraged.

With a slow nod, she replied, "We were talking about school. Silas was going to be in a play and we were all looking forward to it. Then he said he was thirsty so I bent down to get him some juice from my bag, but it fell out on the floorboard." She closed her eyes briefly as she continued, "It was so loud. It was like an explosion. The windows broke and glass sprayed everywhere. I didn't know what had happened at first. The car began to swerve as I sat up. I looked over at James and he was holding his neck – blood was pouring out. At first I thought it was from the broken glass, then I saw the men in the other car. The one on the passenger's side looked surprised when he saw me and he raised a gun. I was already reaching for the steering wheel because we were swerving, so I turned it, hard, and the car jumped the sidewalk. A split second later, we hit the pole. The other car sped up and drove on." As tears began to trickle down her cheeks, she explained, "The first thing I did was try to get to Silas. But it was too late. There wasn't anything I could do. So I tried to help James, and then the officers arrived."

As she dried her eyes with a crumpled tissue, the prosecutor exchanged a look with the marshal, then asked, "James worked in security at Harrisburg International, is that correct?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"And do you know what he did there?"

"You're referring to the drugs, right?"

He looked at her intently. "Yes, I am. What do you know about it?"

"I learned last week that he had been passing bags for drug dealers when I found a role of cash while I was putting away laundry. I confronted him and he told me where the money came from. I was so freaked, I started throwing things into a suitcase. I told him I was taking Silas and leaving. He begged me to stay and promised he would stop. I tried to get him to go to the police, but he said the men he was working for would come after him if he did. He assured me that he had a safe way to get out if I would just give him some time. I told him he had a week, then I was going to the authorities myself if he hadn't quit. Friday, he told me he had." She leaned forward and held her head in her hands. "I never should've trusted what he told me. I should've taken Silas and left the day I found out. If I had, my baby would still be alive."

Officer Harlan put his arm across her shoulders and tried to comfort her as the prosecutor told her, "It isn't your fault. The men who did this probably would've tracked you down anyway. They wouldn't have allowed any of you to live, on the outside chance that James had told you something that could hurt them. Did he mention any names, or give you any information, like schedules for shipments, that would help us put them away?"

"No. I didn't want to know anything except that he wasn't going to work for them anymore."

"That's all right," he assured her. "You're a witness to what happened today and that's a good start. If you're willing to help us, we can protect you."

She looked at him in confusion. "Help you?"

"Someone in a car behind yours saw what happened and followed the men who shot your husband and son, until the police took over. Both men were apprehended a little while ago and are in custody right now. I'd like to take you to the police station and see if you can pick them out of a line-up. If you can, and if you're willing to testify to what they did, the U.S. Attorney's office is prepared to relocate you and James, provided he agrees to testify as well. You would be given new identities and moved under the Witness Protection Program."

After contemplating a moment, she said, "I don't know that James will be willing to help. He was adamant about not going to the authorities before. What if he refuses to testify?"

"Then you will have a decision to make. You can either take your chances with him, which I wouldn't recommend, or you can still do the right thing and agree to testify to what you personally saw. If you do, we will relocate you alone, without James. In that case, he will most likely be facing a prison term anyway." With a shrug, he added, "It may not seem like an easy decision to make, but it really boils down to a choice between life and death. The men James worked for are ruthless, as you have sadly found out. They won't willingly allow him or you to walk away from this. They'll continue to try to find you both, even if James doesn't testify. Leaving loose ends is not their style. Without our help, you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life."

She held her head again, closing her eyes. Finally she said, "James is still in surgery. I can't make any decision without talking to him first."

"Would you at least be willing to look at a line-up? The police station where the men are being held is only a short distance from here. We can have you there and back before James is out of recovery."

With a reluctant nod, she agreed, "All right. I'll go with you." Fresh tears began to spill from her eyes as she added quietly, "I owe it to my son to do everything I can to make sure the men who killed him don't hurt anyone else."

***Marshall trudged up the stairs of his building, his legs so tired he could barely lift them the height of each step. His apartment was dark when he opened the door, and he flipped on lights as he made his way to the kitchen. Taking a fresh water bottle from the fridge, he leaned back against the counter and ran it over his forehead. The cold did nothing to dispel his headache, so he placed the bottle against the back of his neck in order to cool it. He had no idea how long he had been running – he only knew that the sun was still fairly high in the Southwestern sky when he had left, and it was now pitch black out except for the muted glow of street lights. The physical exercise usually calmed his mind, as well as his body, when things were troubling him. This time, though, all he was left with was bone-weary fatigue and a throbbing headache. Nothing, mind nor body, felt calm. He finally pushed himself forward and headed for a cool shower.

***The blue heavy-duty tarp lining the back of the SUV slid out with the trencher as he pulled it to him and lifted it down. Rolling it forward slightly, he pulled the tarp out from under it, folded it loosely and tossed it back into the truck, then pulled the hatch down. When he turned around to push the trencher to the side of the drive-way, he heard the front door of Jessica's house close. He looked up to see her taking a seat on the front steps, barefoot, dressed in a nightshirt, her dark curls tousled. He smiled as he made his way toward her.

"Good morning. Am I too early?"

She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. Her eyes and voice were sleepy as she replied, "When I said 'anytime in the morning', I didn't think I needed to specify that it should be sometime after the crack of dawn, Marshall."

He let out a laugh. "Sorry. I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep, so I thought I might as well head out." Checking his watch, he noted, "And it isn't really all that early, you know."

With a little groan, she rubbed the back of her neck. "It sure feels like it. I got to bed much later than I expected. The party we catered last night went into serious overtime. The host is going to get quite the shock when he receives his bill. We worked more than three hours later than originally specified and he's going to pay my staff double time for every minute of it. I spell it all out up front when I take a job, but for some reason clients seem to have a hard time remembering that part."

"Well if he gives you any trouble, tell him you have a U.S. Marshal on the payroll who does your collections for you. That might get his attention."

She giggled and told him, "Although that's actually what I kept Blanche on the payroll to do, I'd pay the staff out of my own pocket to see a showdown between the two of you. My client fancies himself as something of a tough, cowboy type. It wouldn't be much of a fight since you would easily take him, but it sure would be fun to watch."

"Just give the word," he assured her.

"I'll let you know." She stood up and motioned to him. "Come on inside. If you're a coffee drinker, you can make a pot while I shower and get dressed. Since you decided to be my alarm clock, I may as well put you to work," she pointed out with a smile.

***Marshall leaned back and let out a long, satisfied sigh. "Geez, it doesn't get much better than this: Delicious food, good company, sitting under the stars in the cool night air, and pulsing hot water to soothe my tired muscles." He opened his eyes and added, "I only hope I don't get so relaxed that I have to crawl to the truck in order to drive home. That could prove embarrassing."

"I'd never tell anyone," Jessica assured him as she gave him a smile. "The trencher takes a toll, doesn't it? Truth be told, I was really glad when you volunteered for the job. I was not looking forward to the beat-up feeling it leaves in its wake. The work would be so much more difficult without it, but it's an exhausting piece of equipment to use."

"No more so than the shovel you used to fill the trenches back in after the pipe was laid. We make a good team. We accomplished a lot today," he nodded in satisfaction.

"We did," she agreed. "It was worth how sore I'm going to be tomorrow."

"My shoulders are probably going to be a little sore as well." Leaning forward, he moved over slightly so that jets hit the back of his legs. "This feels great on my aching legs, too."

"Your legs ache from today?"

"No, I went for a really long run yesterday after work."

"Trying to get in your mileage for the week?" she questioned curiously.

"Not exactly." He glanced at her and shrugged. "I had a lot on my mind."

"One of those times when the job got to you?" she suggested.

He studied her for a moment, then answered, "Yes, as a matter of fact, it was."

"I'm sorry," she offered sincerely. "I wish I could return the favor and offer to lend an ear, but I suppose that would be pointless. I assume you aren't allowed to talk about your work, given the nature of what you do."

Although the rule didn't quite apply given the circumstances, he had no intention of discussing what he had viewed the evening before with her. So with a nod, he replied, "Your assumption is correct."

"That has to be difficult," she noted, "not being able to confide in anyone. You and Mary must really depend on each other in that respect."

Letting out a sigh, he acknowledged, "Yeah, we do."

"You know, when I first met the two of you, I thought you were a couple. I didn't realize you weren't until you made a comment about setting Blanche straight on the matter."

"For all the good it did. Blanche had her own ideas and wasn't easily persuaded from them."

Jessica smiled. "Oh, she knew better. She just liked giving you a hard time. Actually, Blanche has a special place in her heart for you. She always said that if she was a few years younger, she'd be all over you."

He shuddered as if he had felt a chill. "Thanks for that disturbing mental image."

"You're welcome," she responded brightly.

Frowning slightly, he asked, "So what was it exactly that made you think Mary and I were a couple?"

"Well, for one thing, you're very comfortable with each other," she replied thoughtfully. "And then there's the good-natured bickering. I had an aunt and uncle like that. They were always sniping at each other but they had been married for almost fifty years. It was actually a sign of mutual affection with them."

"Yeah, well, with us it's usually just a sign of mutual annoyance," he contended.

"Speaking of couples, Mary mentioned that she's engaged. What is her fiancé like? Does he treat her well?"

Marshall regarded her with a touch of suspicion, wondering at the question. With a shrug, he responded, "From what I've seen, he's a nice enough guy."

"You must be happy for her, then."

"I am," he nodded, focusing on the swirling water and thinking of the moment that Mary had told him they were engaged, how the announcement had made him feel anything but happy.

"I'm sorry."

He looked up in mild surprise. "Hmm? What for?"

"The subject seems to make you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

"It's all right," he assured her, "you didn't. It's just that Mary and I have been partners for a long time. Her engagement and eventual marriage will no doubt bring about … a certain amount of changes. And as I've told her on occasion, men don't accept change easily."

"That's an odd thing to say, coming from someone who relocates people and gives them new lives for a living. I would think that you, of all people, would be more accepting."

With a slight smile, he replied, "Convincing someone else that change is the best thing since sliced bread, and accepting it for myself, are two very different things."

"Not all change is bad," she pointed out. "And your relationship with Mary may not be affected as much as you imagine. It's easy to see that she depends on you. I can't imagine that being any different once she's married."

"You don't think so?" he questioned quietly, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the conversation but unable to bring himself to steer it in another direction. Like a train wreck, he felt compelled to see it to the painful, ugly end.

"Of course not. A woman doesn't easily give up the kind of relationship that Mary has with you."

He turned to look at her with genuine curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Pulling her knees up on the bench, she wrapped her arms around them under the bubbling water. "Well, from what you've told me about what I'll be facing when I return to testify, I know the kind of work you do puts you in danger, which means the two of you rely on each other for your safety and literal lives. You also told me you deal with heart-breaking situations at times, and aren't able to talk about them with anyone else, so I'm sure you confide in each other your most deep-seated emotions. You travel together which means you spend long hours in each other's company and share a good part of your lives. Most married people don't have that close of a relationship. In fact, some people go through their entire lives without ever experiencing anything like it. I think women in particular understand how rare it is to find someone they can even have that kind of a relationship with. Believe me, Mary won't let go of that, however her life away from work changes."

"You sound as though you're speaking from experience," he pointed out thoughtfully. "From what you've told me, I can't imagine you had that with James. Did you have that kind of relationship with someone else?"

Shaking her head and avoiding his questioning look, she responded, "Oh, you don't want me to bore you with answering that."

"Oh, yes I do," he quickly assured her. "I really, really do. Spill it, Girl."

She studied him with a smile, amused at his eager expression. With an exaggerated sigh of resignation, she finally gave in and said, "Since you insist... Remember when I told you I had worked on my in-law's remodel, and that my brother-in-law had taught me much of what I know about it?" At his nod, she continued, "Well, Clayton has all the charm and qualities that appealed to me in James, but he's a grown up. He shoulders his responsibilities willingly, he's stable, and he's able to look outside of himself, past just his own needs and desires – all of the qualities that James lacked. I worked on the house through the day a lot with Clayton alone, when everyone else was working at regular jobs or busy with kids and other obligations. We always had a … connection, but the opportunity afforded us time to really get to know each other. He confided in me about his marriage, among other things. His wife was very much like James: self-absorbed and immature. We had a lot in common and I grew close to him."

"And did you confide in him about your own marriage and problems with James?"

"Some, but they were brothers; he already knew what James was like. And I think that was one of the most appealing things about our relationship. He truly understood and sympathized with what I was going through. It made what we shared feel a lot more intimate," she explained with a shrug.

"Did you ever take it to the next level, become more intimate, I mean?" he asked.

"You mean have an affair?" She shook her head. "Neither of us would've ever done that. We both felt the same way about our marriage vows. It was one more thing about him that appealed to me, his sense of loyalty despite being in a difficult situation." She reached for a glass of tea sitting on the ledge beside her and took a drink. "I know he and I didn't have the same kind of closeness that you and Mary share, given how much time you two spend together and how long you've been partners, but I understand the appeal of that kind of relationship. It's kind of seductive."

Marshall regarded her thoughtfully, mulling over the word she had used. "Seductive," he repeated. Nodding, he said, "I like that word, and I understand what you mean. It can only come from a deep sharing."

"Exactly. And I can guarantee you that Mary feels the same and finds your relationship equally important," she assured him.

Not wanting to consider at that particular moment what his partner did or didn't feel, he said, "It must have been difficult for you to walk away from what you had with your brother-in-law, without even being able to tell him you were all right."

She looked away and admitted quietly, "At the time, I had other things on my mind. It wasn't really a consideration."

Recalling the images that he had viewed the previous evening, he felt a deep wave of sympathy. "I guess it was a time when you could've used a shoulder and someone to turn to, someone you already had a connection with. I'm sorry you didn't have that."

With a slight smile, she noted, "It's all right. I have a shrink to confide in now."

"Only one of many skills needed to do my job," he claimed, returning the smile.

"A job you take very seriously, which is why you're sitting here on a Saturday night instead of doing what you normally would," she pointed out.

"And what do you know about my reasons for being here?" he asked challengingly.

"Oh, I've known for a long time that you're here because Mary sent you to play shrink with me. I recognized that set-up at my open house."

With a feigned look of innocence, he asked, "What makes you think Mary sent me?"

"Probably because nearly every time she and I talked the first few months after I arrived in Albuquerque, she tried to engage me in a conversation about my past, how I felt about what happened, about being here. Then you step in, and suddenly not one more word from her on the subject. It's fairly obvious that she asked you to take over and try to get me to tell you what I didn't tell her."

Unwilling to confirm her suspicions, he queried, "So basically you think my only reason for being here is to twist your arm and get you to talk?"

"You're here because getting me to reconcile myself to what happened in the past, accept my new life, and remain relatively stable at least until I testify is your job," she responded with certainty. "And I understand why that's important. I don't fault you for it."

"Do you honestly think I'm coming out here and working my ass off simply because it's part of my job?" he asked pointedly, only half joking.

Jessica let out a laugh. "Granted, you've gone above and beyond, but yeah, I do." She regarded him intently. "Are you going to try to tell me different?"

It was his turn to look away and he reached for his drink in order to give himself a moment to think. He wasn't sure if he should verify her assumptions or tell her that although the reason for the time he had spent with her had started out as an assignment from his partner, it was beginning to no longer be the only reason for his being there. Finally he decided, "I think I'll plead the fifth on that, in order to avoid incriminating myself."

She laughed again. "Smart move."

"I am at least smart enough to recognize when I'm painted into a corner," he assured her.

"I should hope so," she agreed with an amused nod.

***Marshall tossed his wet swimming trunks, wrapped in a towel, onto the front passenger floor of the truck. "Thank you for dinner, again," he said, turning to face Jessica.

"You're welcome. And thank you for all of the hard work you did for me, again. Have I succeeded yet in making you sorry that you volunteered?" she asked with a smile.

"Nope," he replied succinctly. "I learned a lot today. It was worth every aching muscle and blister." Looking at her expectantly, he asked, "What's on our agenda for next weekend?"

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "You've learned how to put in a sprinkler system. That was what you said you wanted when you first suggested helping me out. You don't have to come back for any more punishment, Marshall. You've fulfilled your end of the bargain."

"What makes you think that I see working with you as punishment?"

"The fact that you are leaving with aching muscles and blisters," she noted pointedly. "And don't you have enough information from me by now to fill in all the little blanks on the WITSec mental and emotional stability evaluation form?"

"Mmm … not quite," he decided. "I think it's going to take a little more time." Smiling down at her, he added, "So back to the question: What are we doing next weekend?"

She studied him curiously for a moment before finally responding with a shrug, "I'm putting down pavers this week for the walkways, and next weekend I'll start laying sod – another back-breaking, sweaty job. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Absolutely," he declared. "Same time next Saturday morning?"

"Besides meeting with two new clients and catering a couple of luncheons this week, I have a rehearsal dinner Tuesday night and a wedding to cater Friday evening that's going to take three days to prepare for. Maybe you could show up a little later next weekend," she suggested.

"I can do that," he nodded with smile. Reaching out, he briefly placed his hand on her upper arm. "I'll call you Friday morning to touch base with you. Have a good week, Jess."

"You, too," she responded as he turned to get into the truck. He gave her a wave when she added, "Drive safely going home."


	4. Chapter 4

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 4

"I'll make a deal with you," Marshall suggested, "I'll carry the rest of the sod and you do the cutting. These rolls are getting heavier by the minute."

"You start treating me like I'm some kind of a weakling, and you and I are going to have serious problems," Jessica warned, dumping a roll on the ground beside him.

"Oh, I would never imply that you're a weakling," he assured her, holding up his hand with a smile. "It's just that we've been working at this for a few hours now and I'd hate for you to get so tired that you can't make dinner. The food is one of my favorite parts of our days together."

"I thought the hot tub was your favorite part," she told him as they returned to a pallet stacked with grass rolls.

"That's a call almost too close to make, but I think the food wins that toss up since you always send the leftovers home with me for the next day."

She let out a laugh and hoisted a roll. "Men are such simple creatures."

"And a good thing that is. The human race would've become extinct long ago otherwise," he declared, following with another.

"You're probably right," she agreed. As he unrolled the strip, she stood back and surveyed the area. "I think I'm actually going to take you up on your offer and let you lay the last few rolls needed for this section of the front yard while I trim the pieces bordering the flower beds and fence."

"No problem," he assured her, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his work glove. When he returned to the pallet for another roll, a flash of light caught his attention. His eyes narrowed as he looked off in the distance. "Jess, there aren't any more houses past yours on this road, are there?"

"No, just some pastures and a couple of fields," she answered from where she was kneeling in front of the flowerbed.

With his gaze never wavering, he pulled off his gloves and dropped them on top of the pallet. "Are you expecting anyone?"

She looked over her shoulder curiously. "No. Why?"

"Do you recognize that car?" he asked, motioning to the road.

She walked over to stand by his side, then shook her head. "No."

"Come on," he said tersely, taking her by the shoulder and spinning her around. Dropping his hand to the small of her back, he quickly escorted her to the front porch and ordered, "I want you to go inside and stay there until I tell you otherwise." Picking up his hand gun from where he had left it under his shirt in the shade, he slipped it into the back waistband of his cut-offs as Jessica immediately complied. He then pulled his t-shirt on over his head and tucked the back edge in behind his gun, to leave it easily accessible. Heading with seeming casualness toward the road, he focused intently on the approaching vehicle.

When it neared, he took quick but thorough note of the occupants from the end of the driveway while he pretended to check the mailbox. The car slowed and he waved, careful to keep his body turned so that his gun wasn't visible to the driver and what appeared to be a single passenger. As the car came to a stop at the edge of the pavement, he kept enough distance between himself and the door to not be hit if it suddenly swung open. Smiling, he bent over to peer into the open window.

"Hey, folks. Something I can do for you?"

A woman sitting on the passenger side returned his smiled and declared, "I think we're lost!"

***Having returned his gun to its holster where it lay in the shade, Marshall wiped his shoes thoroughly before opening the front door and entering the house. He followed the sound of running water and made his way to the kitchen.

"Everything is all right," he announced as he entered.

Without turning around, Jessica dried her hands and said quietly, "Yeah, I kept an eye on you through the front window."

"It was a couple who were lost. I gave them directions to the road they were looking for."

"That's good," she nodded, without actually looking at him.

Something in her tone caught his attention and he asked slowly, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

Taking a step closer, he studied her carefully. "I didn't mean to scare you. It isn't that I thought there was a real threat, but I would rather be safe than sorry."

"You didn't really scare me. I'm glad you were here – glad you were aware," she amended. "I would've gone right up to them, without giving it a second thought. It never would've occurred to me to do otherwise."

After contemplating a moment, he questioned, "Then what's wrong?"

"There's nothing, really," she replied, turning to the fridge.

He watched as she took a pitcher of tea out and then poured them each a glass. When she handed one to him, he said matter-of-factly, "You know, contrary to popular belief, Mary isn't the happy-go-lucky, well adjusted soul with the sunny disposition that she appears." She looked up at him in surprise, then smiled despite herself. Having received the response hoped for, he continued, "After years of trial and error dealing with her, I've actually become quite adept at deciphering the female code of silence."

"Is that so?" she asked with an amused expression.

"It is. And using those considerable skills, I've concluded that something is on your mind, despite your assurances to the contrary." With a shrug, he added kindly, "I am here as your shrink, remember?"

"Yeah," she nodded, avoiding his eyes again. Heaving a deep sigh, she explained, "It's just such a tug-of-war, this whole life of trying to forget but always having to remember: forget what happened in the past, but remember to be watchful; be watchful, but don't say or do anything that might give away my past. It's tiring."

"You have to give yourself some time," he advised gently. "It will get easier."

She set her glass down and gave him a slight smile. "I guess I'll have to take your word for that since you're the expert." Picking up her gloves, she started for the door. "I'm going back out. Take a break and cool down, if you'd like. I have quite a bit of cutting to do to catch up so there's no rush."

After draining his glass, he replied, "I'm right behind you."

***Marshall leaned his head back and looked up at the blanket of stars above. Out from the city as they were, the light pollution was minimal and the visible stars numerous. He never tired of gazing at the night sky over New Mexico, although he had done so on a regular basis from the time he was a little kid. Something about the familiarity was comforting and he sighed with contentment.

"You aren't falling asleep on me, are you?" Jessica queried from beside and slightly behind him.

He straightened in the bubbling water and looked over his shoulder. "Not at all. I was just enjoying the view."

After setting a glass of iced tea within his reach, she said, "It is beautiful, isn't it? I think it's one of the things I'm enjoying most about the hot tub. You can see so many stars out here." She made her way to the steps, then eased into the steaming water as well, letting out a soft groan as she sat down. "Of course, there are other things I enjoy about it, too."

"It does feel great," he agreed. Sipping his tea, he watched her as she settled back and closed her eyes. Her swimsuits were always modest, paired with girl-type trunks, but her trim figure was difficult to ignore, particularly at those times when she climbed out of the water and everything was molded to her body.

She glanced over to find him regarding her thoughtfully. "You seem unusually quiet. Something on your mind?" she questioned curiously.

Since he had no intention of actually admitting what had been on his mind, he took another drink, then nodded. "I was just wondering if you were okay, after what happened this afternoon. You seemed more quiet than usual for the rest of the day as well."

Focusing on the water, she admitted, "I guess what happened reminded me of the trial, of what I'll be facing when I return to testify. I'm not looking forward to going back to Harrisburg and being Rose Lawrence again."

"It will only be for a few days at the most," he assured her. "Then it will all be over for good."

"It's going to be difficult to make the switch even for a few days. From the moment I walked out of my house with my suitcase, I've worked hard to not be Rose anymore."

He studied her, considering her words. "Is that why you didn't want to keep your first name when you moved here? Most people entering WITSec take our suggestion to keep their first names and first initial of their last names. But you wanted a completely new name."

"So much happened so fast, so many horrible things, I didn't want to be the person they had happened to. Getting on a plane, flying far away, and leaving everything but a suitcase of clothes behind was actually somewhat appealing. I spent the whole flight distracting myself from thinking about what had happened by focusing on the fact that I was going to be someone else. I certainly didn't want a name that would remind me of it all."

"That explains what you said to Mary when we first met you and she called you Rose. You said that wasn't your name and she was supposed to tell you what your new name was."

Shrugging, she said, "I had forgotten about that but, yeah, after spending hours telling myself that I was no longer Rose, to hear someone call me by that name was a little … disconcerting. I wanted to leave absolutely everything behind."

"And that's why you didn't have anything shipped to you," he concluded.

"It would only have reminded me of the past."

"Have you regretted that decision, to not keep anything?"

"No. The only things that meant anything to me were things I wasn't allowed to have anyway: pictures that Silas drew, the plate he made for me in kindergarten, wedding and baby photos. Everything else was replaceable."

He watched as she turned and picked up her tea, took a sip, then pressed the cold glass to her forehead. "I've had to stand by and watch a lot of people walk away from those things, the things that are irreplaceable. It is, by far, one of the most difficult parts of my job. I can only imagine how it feels from the other side."

"I think I almost struggled more with that at first than with anything else, knowing that the things that meant so much to me were probably simply tossed or sold in a household sale with no history attached, nothing of the people they mattered to. And it's still a struggle. It isn't like I could ever forget my child, but sometimes I'd really like something of him or from him that I can hold in my hands – a photo, maybe, or something he made for me," she added quietly.

"As difficult as it is, you can't have that," he reminded her gently. "It's against the rules for good reason."

"I understand that. But it's tempting to not at least see if his page is still up on the family website, just to see his face again."

He frowned and studied her intently. "Website?"

With a nod, she explained, "Not long after Silas was born, my sister-in-law set up a website for my in-laws with family pictures since my husband's siblings were kind of scattered. Each person or couple could enter their name and update their own pages. My sister-in-law had creative control and could add or delete as well, and I've wondered since the accident if she left ours up or took it down. It's been tempting to use one of the computers at the library to check."

"But you haven't checked, right?"

"No, I haven't," she replied with more than a hint of annoyance. "I know better, Marshall."

As she took a drink, avoiding his eyes, he felt a pang of conscience. "I'm sorry. I know you've been very careful to follow the rules. That's quite a temptation, though. We weren't aware there was a website."

"You never asked. And what does it matter, anyway? It's either still there, the way I left it last time I updated, or it's been changed or removed by my husband's family. Either way, I've had nothing to do with it since I left, and won't be able to ever again." She sighed and rubbed her face with her wet hands. "Look, I have a killer headache and the heat isn't helping like I thought it would. Stay here as long as you'd like, but I'm going inside."

***He stopped beside the door of his truck. "I hope your headache gets better."

"I'm sure it will after some sleep. I haven't had much of that this week," Jessica replied, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Thank you for all of your hard work today. Once again, I received the most benefit out of our bargain."

"Some other time, when you're up to it, I'll argue that point with you," he responded with a smile. After hesitating for a second, he asked hopefully, "Are we finishing the sod next weekend?"

Putting a hand up to rub the back of her neck, she answered, "I'm not sure yet. Let me see how my week goes. I may have to work next Saturday. Call me later in the week and I'll let you know."

"All right," he nodded. Reaching out, he put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Get some rest, Jess. And call me if you need anything."

"I will. Good-night, Marshall."

***Her voice answered on the third ring.

"Jess. How are you feeling today?" Marshall asked.

"Better," she answered. "I slept about ten hours and I felt much better when I woke up."

"That's good to hear." He paused for a second, then continued, "I wanted to apologize if I upset you yesterday. That certainly wasn't my intention. I feel at least partly responsible for causing your headache."

"Believe me, it wasn't your fault," she assured him. "And I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry I was so moody. Chalk it up to PMS. It was also a long day after a really long week. I should've had sense enough to take it a little easier, especially with the heat wave."

"It should be cooler this weekend," he noted, "which is a good thing. My shoulders got a little burned yesterday, despite the sunscreen. I probably should've left my shirt on."

"About next weekend…" she started. "You don't have to help me, Marshall. I can finish up by myself, honest. I truly appreciate all you've done, more than know, but I'm sure you have better things to do. I don't want you to feel obligated to keep coming out here."

"I don't feel obligated. I told you before, I don't work with you because I have to. I want to," he insisted. "And besides, I'm not the kind of person who doesn't follow through. I started laying sod and I'm not going to quit until the job is done. So like it or not, you're stuck with me."

"Okay, okay," she agreed with seeming reluctance. "I'll accept your help – for one more weekend, either this one or next, depending on my work. Then you're going to take some time off, whether _you_ like it or not."

***Mary let out an audible groan and briefly held her head in her hands.

"What's wrong?" Marshall queried from his desk.

She sighed heavily and opened her desk drawer to remove her purse. "I have to go pick up Jinx and drop her at some A.A. deal she's attending. Her car broke down, Brandi is in class, Raph is working, and Peter is in a staff meeting. Apparently she lacks the skills needed to call a cab."

As she started for the elevator, he noted, "I thought you said she had an A.A. meeting last night. She's going again today?"

"She goes almost every day. It seems she's replaced her addiction to alcohol with an addiction to Alcoholic's Anonymous meetings and functions. Go figure."

"Once an addict…" he reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah." Before stepping into the elevator, she added, "You're on your own for lunch. I'm going to run a couple of errands after I drop Jinx off."

"Have fun," he called as the door closed behind her.

***"Oh my God!"

Marshall visibly jumped and whirled in his chair. "What?" he asked guiltily, fumbling behind him to close his laptop.

Pointing to the screen, Eleanor said, "That's the most beautiful child I've ever seen. Who is he?"

Turning back to face forward, he shrugged. "He was the son of one of our witnesses. He was killed, though."

"Oh, no!" she groaned sympathetically. "What a shame!"

"Yes, it was." He scrolled slowly down the page, feeling the odd need to explain even though she hadn't asked the reason for his surfing. "I'm trying to see if there's a way to tell whether or not someone who could pose a threat has accessed the webpage."

Leaning over his shoulder, she pointed again. "Look at how adorable he was. Aww, he looked like such an angel." Peering closer, she asked, "Isn't that …" she snapped her fingers, trying to recall, then supplied, "Jessica, Jessica Larson, right?"

"It is," he confirmed.

"Isn't she Mary's witness?"

"Yes, but I just found out about the website and thought I'd better look it over right away."

She straightened and patted his shoulder. "Well, if you need any help let me know."

***By the time Mary stalked into the office, he had decided on a plan of action. Having failed to mention anything beforehand to her, he didn't want to have to explain after the fact why he had kept the information about the website from her if Eleanor mentioned it, so a preemptive strike seemed in order.

"How'd it go with Jinx?" he asked as she entered, already able to guess the answer from her body language.

"Just great. For some reason she feels the need to share the life's lessons she's learning at meetings with me, as if I need the advice. Hell of a time for her to suddenly start acting like a mother," she grumbled. "When I was ten or so, maybe having a talk about limitations and positive relationships would've actually been helpful."

"At least she's making an effort," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and only a couple of decades too late," she responded with exaggerated cheeriness.

As she stashed her purse, he said, "I e-mailed you a link to a website you might want to check out."

"Why's that?"

"When I talked with Jessica this weekend, she told me James' family had a photo sharing site. I had some time to kill at lunch since I ordered in so I looked it up. I would've done so yesterday but I thought it best to check from one of the office computers in case someone tried to trace the log-on," he explained. "It's hard to tell if the site has been accessed by anyone other than family members, though."

Calling up the information on her own screen, she clicked on the link. "I take it from the fact that you aren't foaming at the mouth and sticking a violation report in my face to sign that Jessica hasn't tried to access it."

"No, she hasn't. But she told me it was tempting."

"Once you see the pictures of her little boy, you'll know why. He was gorgeous," Eleanor interjected as she got up and passed Mary's desk on her way to file paperwork. "I hope the sons of bitches responsible for killing him burn forever in hell."

Marshall exchanged a raised eye brow expression with Mary. "See what I mean? Potty mouth."

Turning back to her computer screen, Mary noted, "It's password protected."

"Type in James and Rose, with no spaces in between," he said as he got up to join her.

Her fingers tapped at the keyboard, then she sat back when the page appeared. "Wow, he really was a cutie. He had Jess' eyes."

"There are pictures of some of his artwork later on the page. He was extremely talented for his age."

As she scrolled down, Mary said, "I take it she finally opened up about him."

"She did."

"Well, then, mission accomplished," she noted. "You've earned your gold star."

"You know me; I aim to please."

"So I guess there's no need for you to go out and work with her this weekend."

"I didn't make any plans to do so," he answered, choosing his words carefully.

"Well, it's probably good that you take a step back and not see her for a while. You don't want her to get the wrong impression."

He frowned and queried, "Wrong impression?"

"Do the math, Smart Guy: She's single, alone, and attractive – you're single, alone, and … reasonably attractive, in a Geeky sort of way. You've spent part of the last four weekends with her. You don't want her to read something into the situation that simply isn't there. She's in a particularly vulnerable position right now. It would be really easy for her to get attached. Then she'd be heartbroken when you had to set her straight. That's the last thing we need when she's going to be facing a difficult trial soon."

"So you just want me to abandon her, when she's finally beginning to talk?" he questioned cautiously.

"Of course not. But from now on, we should see her together. I'm only saying you shouldn't spend time alone with her."

He nodded slowly. "You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right," she insisted impatiently. "And if you could only accept that fact, our life together would be so much easier."

***Marshall consulted his wristwatch as Jessica adjusted a last sprinkler head. "I can't believe we finished the sod for the whole backyard already. It's barely even 4:00. Is there anything else you want to work on today?"

"As a matter of fact, there is one more little thing," she replied. Leading the way to the back door, she explained, "I ran across these cool tiny clear lights I want to put up in the big tree on the side of the house. I thought it would look great beside the hot tub."

While she retrieved the box and a handful of plastic ties, he noted, "That will look great. Where is your ladder?"

"We don't need a ladder. Once we unroll the string, you can boost me up into the tree. I want to wrap the lights around the trunk and center branches. A ladder won't help much."

When she stuffed the ties into her pocket and began unwinding the string of lights beside the tree, he took one end and backed up with it, stretching it out straight. Looking up, he observed, "I hadn't noticed before how huge that tree is. Are you sure you want to climb it? Even the lowest branches are pretty far off the ground."

"I've been climbing trees since I was old enough to walk. It won't be a problem," she assured him. Laying down her end, she added, "Okay. Once I'm up, you can hand me the end."

Placing his end on the ground as well, he joined her at the bottom of the tree. "I can do the climbing if you want," he offered.

"Nope. I'll do it. Are you ready?""

He interlaced his fingers and bent over beside her. "Be careful," he warned.

She placed the toe of one shoe in his hands and reached up as he lifted. Grabbing the lowest branch, she pulled herself up. "Thanks." Then reaching down, she took the end of the cord from him. Wrapping it snugly around her wrist to leave her hands free, she began to climb higher. "If you could feed it up a little, to keep it from getting tangled, that would help."

Doing as requested, he focused on keeping the line straight. Less than half of the string remained on the ground when he looked up – and saw that she was a good twenty feet off of the ground. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest. "Jess! That's high enough! You're going to fall and break your neck!"

"Good grief, Marshall! Not if you don't yell at me and scare me to death!" she retorted. Finishing securing the end to a branch over her head as she braced herself against the trunk, she then began weaving it through branches and around the trunk, fastening it with ties at regular intervals and descending a little at the time.

He watched nervously, tensing every time her foot slipped in the least. "Go slow," he advised, mindful to keep his voice quieter than before so as not to startle her.

"I am," she replied, looking down to place a foot on a lower branch. She continued to wind the lights and descend until she was back on the lowest branch. Looking down, she noted, "There's just enough left to wrap around the bottom of the trunk."

"Come on and get down now, before you give me a heart attack."

She bit her lip as she crouched on the limb. "That ladder would probably come in handy about now. It looks a lot farther to the ground from here than it did when I was coming up."

"And you wondered why I was upset when you were three times as high a few minutes ago," he pointed out dryly. He moved to stand below her and held up his arms. "Put your hands on my shoulders. I'll help you down."

Cautiously leaning forward, she said, "I can't reach."

"Sit flat on the limb," he advised.

She did as he said and leaned forward again. Her fingertips barely brushed his shoulders. "I think I need the ladder," she decided.

"Just slide off. I'll catch you," he promised.

Adjusting her position one more time, she reached for his shoulders and cautiously slid off. His hands caught her at the waist and he easily lowered her to the ground.

Giving him a smile, she said, "You see? No problem!"

As she began to turn away, his hands tightened slightly around her waist. When she looked up at him questioningly, he took a half step closer and said quietly, "Not so fast." Then slowly leaning down, he gently brushed her lips with his, alert to any signs of resistance on her part. Detecting none, he slipped his arms around her and carefully pulled her closer. He kept the kiss light and brief, breaking it off after a few seconds. Keeping his arms around her, he smiled at her look of surprise and shrugged somewhat self-consciously. "I hope you don't mind; I couldn't help myself."

Her eyes were solemn as she looked intently into his. She finally shook her head and said softly, "I don't mind."

Not quite sure what to make of her reaction, he gestured toward the tree with one hand and suggested, "Let's plug it in and see how it looks."

She nodded her agreement but her eyes remained serious as she replied simply, "Okay."

***He could hear Jessica in the kitchen, boxing up leftovers for him to take home, as he wrapped his wet trunks in a towel and placed both in his tote bag with the rest of his dirty clothes. The evening had been quiet, with the slight nervous awkwardness between them that always came when a relationship changed from being simply friendly to something more. He had made no further move toward physical contact but had thought of little else each time his eyes strayed to her mouth and he remembered the feeling of her lips against his. She had been more subdued than usual and he had caught her studying him thoughtfully several times during the evening. He had resisted the temptation to question her, though, and had decided to just give her time to acclimate to the new situation.

"You don't have to refrigerate the berry crisp tonight if you don't want to," she advised, interrupting his thoughts as she joined him in the living room. "It will keep a couple of days at room temperature."

Accepting the bag she held out to him, he smiled. "I hate to tell you, but I'll probably polish that off when I get home. I don't think it's going to make it to tomorrow."

"I'm glad you like it," she nodded in amusement.

Strolling out to the truck, he noted, "I really enjoyed the day with you, Jess. The yard, and the tree, look great. I still can't believe we finished the back so quickly. I expected it to take much longer."

"Once you get a system going, it goes pretty fast. And there was a lot less cutting to do in back."

He opened the door behind the driver's seat and tossed in his tote, then placed the food carefully beside it before closing it and turning to face her. "Are you going to start the deck across the back next Saturday?"

She stood a couple of feet away, her hands jammed into the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt. "I don't know," she shrugged. "I thought I might take the weekend off."

"A weekend off? That doesn't sound like you," he observed teasingly, leaning back against the door.

With a slight smile she replied, "Yeah, well, I thought I'd mix it up a little. I'd hate to think that I'm actually becoming predictable."

Returning the smile, he regarded her quietly for a moment, then reached out and took her by the arm. He slowly pulled her closer, watching her carefully all the while. Her eyes remained focused on a point somewhere on his chest as he gently brushed her hair from her cheek. "Then maybe we could go out, to a movie, or dinner or something – give you a break from cooking for a change, too."

She wet her lips nervously, then said softly, "I don't know. I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"And why not?" he asked, slipping his fingers into her curls.

"Because I'm not sure if this is a good idea … us, I mean, being more than friends. I don't want to do anything that's going to jeopardize your job."

"What makes you think that would happen?"

She leaned back a little and looked up at him, shaking her head. "I don't even have to ask if getting involved with a witness is against the rules, Marshall. That's a given. And I know how much your job means to you. For someone who chose his career at three years of age, you suddenly seem very unconcerned with keeping it."

"We're not doing anything that puts my job in danger," he insisted, amused at her explanation. "You and I are simply two people enjoying each other's company. As marshals, Mary and I assimilate witnesses into new lives on a regular basis, and no one around them is the wiser. If you and I had met on the street, and you continued to follow WITSec rules, I might never have known."

"But you do know."

He shrugged. "You're not my witness."

"No, I'm Mary's witness," Jessica noted pointedly. "And you know as well as I that hell would sooner freeze over than for her to give us her blessing."

He dropped his hand to her waist and studied her for a moment. "You're trying awfully hard to talk me out of this," he observed. "If there are no feelings on your part, then just tell me. I'll understand."

She raised her hand to tentatively finger one of the buttons on his shirt. "If I told you that, it would be a lie," she admitted quietly. "But I'm not the kind of person who has one night stands or casual relationships. So it seems to me that, for completely different reasons, this is a somewhat significant step for both of us. Well … unless you do this sort of thing all the time…"

Smiling, he assured her, "This is a first for me."

"Then I need to know that you're really sure about this, about what you want, before we take even one more step. I need to know that you aren't going to change your mind once you've had time to consider all the possible repercussions."

He was silent for a moment, surprised at her words. Then he reached up and carefully took her face in his hands, looking into her eyes so that she could see the sincerity in his. "I'm not going to change my mind, Jess. I haven't rushed into this, for reasons you stated and more, but I've known this is what I want for a while now." Smiling again, he added, "I've only been waiting for you to catch up."

After searching his face intently, she finally replied softly, "I think I just did."

***"Are you sure I can't talk you into going to dinner tonight? We can make it an early evening," he promised.

"As tempting as that sounds, I can't," Jessica responded. "Sunday is laundry day and I have a lot more to do to be ready for tomorrow. It's going to be another busy week."

"But that means I have to wait a whole week to see you again. Unless I can talk you into having lunch one day," he suggested hopefully.

"Hmm … that might be a possibility, maybe around Wednesday or Thursday. I can't make any promises, though. I'll have to call you when I see how my schedule looks."

"Well, I guess I'll have to be content with that," he decided. "Don't forget about next weekend – you're spending the entire day with me Saturday. And I'm making all the plans."

"How could I forget? I can't wait," she assured him. "But you'll have to give me at least a clue as to what we'll be doing so I know how to dress. I mean, there's a big difference in attire for hiking in the mountains versus dinner and a movie."

"I'll let you know. But you should probably be prepared for anything," he warned.

She let out a laugh. "I can do that. Have a good week, Marshall. Don't work too hard."

"Same to you. I'll talk to you in a day or two … or sooner," he added happily. "Take care, Jess."

***"A prosecutor from the U.S. Attorney's office in Chicago is arriving next week to prepare Arlene Cowan for her testimony," Eleanor informed Mary, handing her a phone message. "He said he'll be in touch with you as soon as his plans are finalized."

Mary dropped her purse on her desk and sighed. "Not a meeting I'm looking forward to. Arlene is one of my sketchier witnesses. She's going to need a lot of hand holding and reassuring to get through this."

"Well, she always has Marshall to fall back on for that," Eleanor pointed out patronizingly.

Giving her a scathing look, Mary muttered, "Funny. Very funny."

***Marshall picked up the potted plant he had left on the passenger side floor of his truck. His footsteps crunched on the gravel drive as he made his way to the front door of Jessica's house. Opting to knock instead of ring the doorbell, he immediately heard Jessica's voice call through the open window, "Come in, Marshall."

He looked at the plant, unsure of whether or not he should carry it through the house, and finally set it on the deck outside. Opening the door, he entered and heard her say, "I'm in the kitchen."

His boots echoed on the hardwood as he made his way through the living room. When he came around the corner, he caught sight of her sliding a tray of strawberries into the refrigerator. "Sorry I didn't come and let you in. I just finished washing these and I needed to get them back in the fridge. In the morning they get dipped in chocolate for a dinner we're catering tomorrow night," she explained.

"That's okay," he responded, looking her up and down when she turned around. The simple yellow sundress she wore set off both her tan and her eyes. "You look great."

"Thank you," she replied quietly, smoothing the front of her dress. "All I need to do is grab my shoes and I'll be ready to go."

"Make sure they're comfortable. We're going to be doing a lot of walking," he warned.

***They sat side by side on the steps of her house, looking up at the stars. "The place we visited today that I enjoyed the most would have to be the Biological Park, particularly the Rio Grande Botanic Garden. It was both interesting and beautiful. The butterfly garden and the birdhouses were my favorites," Jessica answered in response to Marshall's query.

He leaned back to look at her incredulously. "You chose the Botanic Garden over getting caught in the sprinklers at the park? I can't believe it! And I went to so much trouble to arrange that!"

With a giggle, she replied, "I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. You did say to be prepared for anything."

"Next time, you'll believe me."

"That I will," she agreed whole-heartedly. Motioning to the plant behind them, she added, "I love the gardenia. They don't grow outdoors in Pennsylvania, only in pots. It gets too cold in the winter. I'm going to plant this one beside the deck where the hot tub is, especially since you said the scent is stronger in the evening when it's blooming."

"That's a good place for it. They like humidity." He reached over and carefully brushed her hair from her shoulder, letting it slip through his fingers in the process. "So are we starting the deck in back next weekend?"

"If you want," she nodded. "Or we can take another weekend off and you can show me more of the sights."

"We could do both. We could work on the deck Saturday and see the sights on Sunday."

"That would be fine with me," she agreed. "I can pack us a picnic lunch for Sunday, if you'd like."

"Mmm, I certainly won't turn that down." He continued trailing his fingers through the corkscrew curls that fell several inches down her back. "Your hair is so soft. I didn't expect it to feel that way. I thought it would be more … wiry, because of the curls. It reminds of a poodle my grandmother used to have."

Her eyebrows arched as she turned her head to regard him indignantly. "I have hair like a poodle? Seriously?"

"I didn't mean that in a bad way," he quickly amended, his eyes wide. "It was a compliment. Honestly, it wasn't meant as an insult."

She smiled and shook her head. "Sometimes you make it so easy to give you a hard time that it isn't even fun."

Sliding his arm around her, he noted, "Geez, you're starting to sound just like Mary. I need to work at keeping the two of you apart. The last thing I need is for her to rub off on you."

"I don't need any pointers from Mary to give you a hard time," she stated matter-of-factly. "I think I do pretty well on my own."

With a smile, he assured her, "That you do. And you would think I'd be used to it by now, given the abuse I suffer at work." Growing more serious, he reluctantly said, "It's late. I should let you get some sleep, especially since you have to work tomorrow."

"Don't remind me. Normally Sierra takes the weekend jobs since she goes to school through the week and needs the hours, but she has a family reunion to attend tomorrow."

Standing up, he reached for her hand and pulled her up as well. Holding on to it, he strolled with her toward his truck. "Will it be a late night?"

"Maybe. We're scheduled to start packing up at 10:00 but I have a feeling it might go over. I've worked for this client before and her functions usually run longer than planned. She never complains about paying overtime, though."

Stopping beside his SUV, he asked, "Will you call me when you get home? Even if it's late, I want to know that you get here safely."

"I'll be all right, Marshall," she insisted. "I work late on a regular basis and I make it home just fine. You don't have to worry."

Looking around, he pointed out, "You're really isolated out here. I'll sleep better knowing you arrived safely. So humor me and call, all right?"

She smiled up at him. "All right. Just to humor you, though."

Taking her into his arms, he smiled as well. "Good." He smoothed her hair and added, "I had a great time today. My only complaint is that the day wasn't long enough."

"I'd have to agree, on both points. Thank you for taking to me to such great places. I learned a lot today. I'm looking forward to seeing more of the city on Sunday."

"So am I." Tightening his arms, he pulled her closer and leaned down for a long slow kiss, and her arms slid around his neck in return. When he broke it off, he continued to hold her for a moment more. "Good-night, Jess."

"Good-night, Marshall," she replied softly. "Have a safe trip home."

***Mary replaced the receiver of the phone on her desk and jotted a note in her planner. "We leave Sunday for Chicago," she announced.

"Sunday?" Marshall repeated.

"Yes. The prosecutor thinks Arlene will begin testifying Monday afternoon and finish up Tuesday morning. We should be back by Wednesday."

"Great," he muttered under his breath. Sighing in resignation, he offered, "I'll start planning out the route."

"All right, but no more flights through Phoenix," Mary insisted. "The blisters on my feet still haven't healed from the last time we went through there and had to hike three miles between gates. That's the worst laid-out airport I've ever seen."

***"The longest it took for one of my witnesses to be called to testify was right at six years," he answered in response to Jessica's question.

"Six _years_? Why so long?"

"The man he was testifying against fled the country. It took time to have him extradited back." He shrugged and looked across the bar at her. "That case was the exception to the rule. Most cases go to trial from within a few months to two years. Some go longer, but not many. I'm sure we'll have a date for you soon."

"Part of me wants it over with and part of me is dreading it," she admitted.

"Waiting is the hard part," he agreed.

"So what do you have planned for us tomorrow?" she asked before taking a bite of her dinner.

He reached for the dish of three bean salad and took another helping. "I meant to tell you earlier and then we got so busy with the deck that I completely forgot: I have to go out of town for work tomorrow. Mary and I leave early in the morning."

She studied him for a moment, then said, "I don't suppose it would do any good to ask if you're escorting a witness somewhere to testify."

"No," he agreed, "it wouldn't do any good. You know I can't talk about that."

"Will you at least call me, to let me know that you're all right?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded. "Of course I'll call you. But there's no need to be concerned. We'll be fine."

She remained silent, concentrating on her food. Regarding her curiously, he asked, "Jess, you aren't worried, are you? Because there's really no need. This trip is completely routine, no different from a hundred we've taken before."

Laying down her fork, she took a drink of tea, concentrating on her plate. Finally she explained, "Now that I've been on the other side of the one-way glass, I know how dangerous your work is. I can't pretend to be blissfully unaware. And you can't expect me to not worry."

"You know we take precautions to minimize every possible danger. We've talked about that with you, for when you'll testify. We know what we're doing."

"That doesn't mean there isn't a possibility that something could go wrong," she pointed out. "It's no different from you insisting I call you when I get home after working late. I've driven out here alone for months and never had a problem. But you still want me to call, just in case one time there is a problem."

Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it gently. "I promise I'll call you every day. But I assure you, everything is going to be fine."

***"God, I can't wait to crawl into my own bed," Mary declared, leaning her head back. "I'm going to sleep for twelve hours straight."

"Yeah, it was nice of Stan to give us tomorrow off," Marshall noted. "I'm looking forward to a little uninterrupted shut-eye myself."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to have Arlene's testimony over with. I've never met anyone so needy in all my life." Shrugging, she amended, "Well, with the exception of my family that is. How does one go through life not being able to do anything without someone's hand to hold? "

"She's never _had_ to do anything on her own," he pointed out as he pulled into the drive-way of her house. "This whole experience has been quite the rude awakening for her, to not have someone at her beck and call to do her constant bidding. In time, she might find that it's good for her to stand on her own feet for a change."

"Just as long as she doesn't stand anywhere near me," Mary grumbled as she opened the truck door.

He took her bag from the back and carried it into the house for her. Setting it down, he took note of the dim lighting and said in a hushed voice, "I'm going to take off. I'll see you at the office on Friday."

"All right. Have a good day off tomorrow, Marshall."

"You, too," he replied before he slipped out the door.

***He flipped open his phone and hit a speed-dial digit while he was waiting for a traffic light. Seconds later, he heard Jessica's voice respond happily, "Marshall! Are you in town now?"

"I just dropped Mary off," he replied. "Is it too late to get together?"

"It wouldn't be, but I'm still working," she informed him.

"I figured you would be. The anniversary dinner at the KiMo Theatre?"

"Yes."

"How much longer?"

"We started the clean-up only a few minutes ago so we'll be here another two hours, at least. I can't ask you to wait that long for me."

He pulled into a parking space, turned off the ignition, and climbed out of the truck. "I don't mind. I want to see you."

"I'd like to see you, too, but by the time I'm finished, I'm probably going to be dead on my feet anyway. It's been a killer day. And I need to rest up for Saturday. Have you decided what we're going to do?"

"I have a few ideas," he replied vaguely. As he pulled open the door in front of him, he asked, "Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"I don't have any catering jobs but I'll have to spend some time in the office ordering for next week."

"Can you have lunch with me?"

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know yet. Give me some time to think about it," he suggested as he walked down the carpeted hallway. "So if you had some extra help cleaning up tonight, do you think you might have the energy for at least a quick drink afterwards?"

"Well, yeah, if I had extra help, but I don't. I already sent two of my people home so there are only three of us left."

Opening one last door, he stopped and responded, "If you count again, I think you'll find that there are four."

She whirled to face him when she heard his voice come from behind her, and the smile of pure delight that lit her face was enough to make his heart skip a beat. He took a step toward her as she ran the few feet to meet him, then he swept her up in a bear hug that pulled her completely off of her feet. Setting her down, he bent to give her an enthusiastic kiss.

"God, I missed you!" he declared.

"I can't believe you're here! What made you think of just showing up?"

"I didn't want to wait until tomorrow to see you," he explained with a disarming shrug. "So put me to work, already, and then we can get out of here."

Wrapping both of her arms tightly around one of his, she said, "Come on. You can start loading trays into the van."

***Marshall tightened his arms around Jessica's torso as he kissed her and eased back on his couch, pulling her with him so that she was stretched out on top of him. Breaking it off for a much-needed breath, he sighed contentedly and propped his head up with a throw pillow. He stroked her hair gently as she rested her chin on her arm where it lay across his chest.

"I had such a great time," he noted. "I can't think of a better way to spend a Saturday than tromping around Albuquerque with you."

"I enjoyed it, too. Every time we go somewhere, I learn more interesting things about the area. There's so much history and culture. I loved the brick paths and little gardens in Old Town."

"Old Town is aptly named. Did you know that part of the city is over 300 years old?"

"I didn't. It's really beautiful." She tapped her fingers on his chest thoughtfully. "You know, I don't think we'll ever run out of places to explore."

"I'm glad you find it interesting. I was afraid you'd be bored with it all by now."

"Not a chance." She shrugged as she played with the top button of his shirt. "That might have something to do with the company I'm keeping, though."

He gave her a smile. "That's good to know." Brushing her cheek with his fingertips, he marveled at the smoothness of her skin. "So now that we've finished the deck and flowerbeds, what are we going to work on at your house? All of our projects are finished."

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking I might dig a swimming pool by hand or lay sod across the entire back forty," she replied casually.

Letting out a laugh, he said, "I can actually picture you doing that."

"There are always little projects to be done when you own a house – shelves in the garage, new roof for the barn. It never ends," she pointed out, stifling a yawn.

"It's really late. I should be getting you home," he reluctantly acknowledged. Watching her carefully, he tentatively suggested, "Or you could stay here tonight."

She met his eyes and slowly shook her head. "I'm not quite ready to take that step yet, Marshall. I need a little more time to … to get used to us, to the idea."

He frowned in confusion. "You need more time to get used to the idea of sleeping on my sofa?" Then, as if her meaning had suddenly dawned on him, he said, "Ohhhhh … you thought I meant sleep with me." With a look of complete innocence, he claimed, "That thought never even crossed my mind."

With a little smile, she adjusted her position slightly and took note of his rather physical response. "Is that so?"

Tightening his hands around her waist, he replied, "Okay, okay, so maybe there was a thought." Reaching up again to smooth her hair, he continued more seriously, "I understand how difficult it is to get close to someone again. It takes a lot to trust someone under normal circumstances, let alone after what you've been through."

"That isn't it. I trust you completely. I mean, my life is going to be in yours and Mary's hands, literally, when I testify. Trust isn't an issue."

"Then what is it?" he asked curiously.

She grew thoughtful for a moment, then explained, "When I came to Albuquerque, it was with the thought that I would be alone from that point forward. Even after I was here for a while, I couldn't see myself ever getting involved with anyone. Dragging someone else into this made-up life has always seemed like a bad idea. It's difficult enough dealing with people I work with or those I meet casually. I'm simply not good at lying. I keep my distance to avoid getting too close to anyone and I've become adept at changing the subject whenever questions about my past arise. But when you're in a relationship that's supposed to be based on trust, you can't change the subject forever. Sooner or later you have to answer those inevitable questions: Where are you from? Have you ever been married? What was your childhood like? Are your parents still alive? Remaining alone seemed easier than trying to make up answers to all the questions." She paused, then added more quietly, "With you it's different, though. I don't have to worry about making things up since you already know all the answers. But it's going to take some time for me to change my mindset and get used to the thought that I don't have to be alone anymore."

Marshall stroked her cheek, absorbing what she had said. "You aren't alone anymore, Jess. You have me now. And I do understand how you feel. We'll take all the time you need."

She gently traced his lips with a finger. "It means a lot to hear you say that." Covering her mouth, she yawned again and briefly laid her head on his chest. "My client is going to wonder why I'm a zombie tomorrow."

"I thought you had the day off."

"I have a brunch to cater at 11:00. I need to be on site no later than 8:30 to set up."

He held his arm over her head and checked his watch. "That's barely five hours from now! By the time I get you home, you'll get less than four hours of sleep. Why didn't you tell me you had to work early tomorrow?"

"Because the day was so perfect, I didn't want it to end," she answered matter-of-factly.

Letting out a breath, he shook his head. "You know, when you say things like that, you make it difficult to keep my promise to give you the time you need, when what I really want to do is pick you up and toss you on my bed."

From the surprise in her eyes, it was obvious that his admission had caught her off-guard. After a second, she replied softly, "Then I'll try not to say things like that anymore."

Taking her face in his hands, he said, "I certainly wasn't asking you to do that. I was simply making an observation."

***"It's bad enough with four people crammed into my house since Raph has moved in," Mary complained. "Now Peter is there _all the time_. I don't have a moment of privacy in my own home."

"They're family. What are you going to do?"

"Change the locks? Move without leaving a forwarding address? Burn the house down? There has to be some solution."

"It should make you feel good that they want to be near you," Marshall contended as he walked with her through the parking garage. "Some families go years without having any sort of contact."

"I should be so lucky," she muttered. Turning to glance at him, she asked, "What are you doing this weekend? Jinx wants to have a barbeque and invite some people over that she met at her A.A. meeting. I'm looking for any excuse to not be there."

"Yeah … sorry, but I sort of have plans," he admitted with a shrug. "I'm going out to my parents' to help with some chores. Why don't you and Raph get away for the weekend? I hear Flagstaff is nice this time of year."

"That would be nice, except for the fact that Raph is working Saturday and is perfectly content to stay at home the rest of the weekend, homebody that he is. And he thinks we should be more supportive of my mother and her efforts to 'reform'. It's the craziest thing I've ever heard."

"You have to give her some credit for staying sober this long," he acknowledged. "And it could be worse: Jinx could pick up some other reforming drunk and bring him home to live with you, too."

Mary heaved a sigh. "In that case, I would absolutely be forced to torch the place."

As they continued to the truck in silence, his thoughts turned to the events of the weekend. He was completely unaware that Mary was no longer beside him until he heard her cough conspicuously.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he found her standing in the middle of the parking garage several feet back, staring at him incredulously.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly. "What the hell are you doing?"

Gesturing toward the SUV, he replied in confusion, "I was going to unlock the truck."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the strange sound coming from your lips," she retorted.

"Oh, that," he responded sheepishly, focusing on the ground. "I was whistling."

"Yeah, you were whistling," she pointed out, coming to stand in front of him with her hand on her hip. "I want to know what gives, Sparky, and don't hand me any of that it's-a-beautiful-day-in-the-neighborhood crap. You've been nauseatingly happy for a good week now. It's time you told me why."

"Can't a guy just be happy without you attacking him?" he asked, turning toward the truck again.

Taking him by the arm to stop him, she answered, "Sure he can. But you were whistling, for Christ's sake. You don't whistle." Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him suspiciously. "I saw Shelly Finkel in the parking garage the other day. Have you picked things up with her again?"

"No, I haven't," he quickly assured her.

"I certainly hope not because I think you know that deal is a dead-end."

"I haven't seen Shelly, even in passing, for months. You know we had coffee, one time, and nothing more." Shrugging, he explained, "I guess I'm just feeling more or less content. I mean, I understand now why you told Raph what you really do, and I'm not upset with you anymore about that. And despite your grousing, you seem happy with things in your life, as the word 'happy' applies to you. So all things considered, life is good. It's as simple as that."

"You are such a liar!" she exclaimed.

Putting his arm around her waist, he continued to the truck. "Come on, Stan wants us to finish up the paperwork on Philip and Camille. We need to get back to the office."

Glaring at him, she vowed ominously, "Mark my words: I will get the truth out of you eventually. It's only a matter of time."

***"_Marshall_!" Bobby D.'s agonized voice exclaimed, "_Mary's been shot_!"


	5. Chapter 5

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 5

**Present Day** Mary slipped the small collection of mail into a larger, already addressed envelope and licked the glue strip. Smoothing the seal, she let out a sigh. Forwarding the last of Raphael's mail to his new address seemed symbolic somehow, as though it were the final postmark on their relationship. She had considered delivering it to him in person, but had decided that seeing him in the flesh might lead to the same conclusion their last "conversation" had, despite her resolve to the contrary. Better to let the USPS do the job it was paid to do, therefore avoiding temptation.

She headed for the elevator just as Marshall was emerging. "Hey, hold the door," she advised as the security door closed soundlessly behind her. "Did you see your Dad off?"

"I did," he replied, doing as she had said. As she entered the elevator, he asked, "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, we both are."

Removing his hand to allow the doors to close, he queried, "And where would that be?"

"We're meeting Jessica for lunch."

Caught slightly by surprise, he turned and busied himself selecting the button for the parking garage. "Any particular reason why?"

"David McArthur called from the U.S. Attorney's office. He has a trail date. He's arriving in two weeks to go over Jess' testimony with her."

Marshall let out a sigh and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "I wonder how she'll take the news."

Mary shrugged. "We'll know soon enough."

***"McArthur will review your testimony with you. He'll basically ask you the same questions he plans to ask when you're on the stand and help you word your answers in a way that paints a clear picture for the jury," Mary explained after laying down her napkin. "He'll also give you some idea of what questions to expect from the defense."

Jessica nodded thoughtfully. "So he plans to put me on the stand the second day of trial?"

"After opening statements from both sides, he'll spend some time setting things up, and then you'll most likely give your testimony Tuesday morning or early afternoon," Mary answered.

"We'll fly out Monday and hopefully be on our way back home by Wednesday," Marshall informed her. "It will all be over before you know it."

"Can't be too soon for me," Jessica noted softly. "I only hope I don't screw up on the stand."

"You'll do fine. Within minutes of speaking with McArthur it was obvious to me that he's very experienced. He'll make sure you're prepared," Mary responded.

"I remember him as being kind," Jessica told them. "He didn't mince words but he was very compassionate and respectful."

"He does seem straightforward," Mary agreed. Standing up, she added, "I'll be right back."

Marshall followed her with his eyes as she headed for the back of the restaurant. When she was out of sight, his expression softened and he turned his attention to Jessica. "This was a nice surprise. I didn't expect to see you today."

"It was a surprise to me as well, although I had a pretty good idea what Mary wanted to tell me when she called."

Resisting the temptation to place his hand over hers, he asked, "So are you all right with not having much notice on the trial date? A little over two weeks isn't much time."

"I'm fine with it," she replied. "I'd rather not have too much time to think about it. And you know I've wanted it to be over for a long time."

"I know," he nodded. "I wanted to make sure, though."

After first glancing over her shoulder in the direction May had gone, she then turned back and asked, "Has anything come up for this weekend or are we still on?"

"Everything is fine," he readily concurred. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"I'm sorry I have to work on Saturday. I hope you didn't have to change too many plans."

"It isn't a problem at all," he assured her. "Sunday will work out just as well. I'll pick you up at about 11:00 if that's all right."

"It is. You can even come a little earlier than that if you want. The job on Saturday won't last too late. This particular client is good about sticking to the agreed-on schedule."

Catching sight of his partner's approach, he reached for his drink and said quietly but warmly, "The more time we have together, the better. Let's make it 10:00."

***"So you're saying we're supposed to let him blackmail us and get away with it?" Mary questioned indignantly as she handed her cash across the counter and accepted a coffee in return. "Just give him what he wants?"

"I'm saying that making the best of a bad situation could include giving him what he wants. Where's the harm in that?" Marshall argued as he turned with her to head to the truck.

"Dennis Sampson got his picture in the paper on purpose, so that he would have to be relocated. And now you expect me to reward his underhanded behavior by moving him to Amarillo where The Girlfriend lives?"

"I don't deny that it's a possibility he did it on purpose, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The picture in the paper could've been a simple coincidence. The caption didn't list his name, and the photo was merely a wide-angle shot of a street race. Taking advantage of the coincidence to be moved where he wants to live is understandable, even predictable. He's been whining to be allowed to move for months now. This shouldn't be any great surprise."

"Maybe," she grudgingly agreed. "It just pisses me off to give in when I know he set us up."

"Let it go, Mare. He isn't worth losing sleep over. If we move him to Amarillo, he'll become someone else's problem. There's really no down side when you think about it."

"I suppose you're right," she mumbled.

"I am right," he assured her. Moving ahead to open the truck door for her, he added, "Come on. We have to meet your underhanded witness in ten minutes. With any luck, Stan will have the move approved and we can deliver Dennis to Amarillo marshals tomorrow, and be back in time to sleep in our own beds."

***"Now aren't you glad to be rid of him? He's in Amarillo with the girlfriend and you don't have to put up with his endless requests to be allowed to move. Everybody's happy," Marshall pointed out.

"Ecstatic," Mary agreed sarcastically. "Since we're getting back so late, do you think we can weasel at least half a day off out of Stan? I would really like to sleep in tomorrow morning."

"He might let us off," he nodded. "He's been so preoccupied with Allison being here that he probably wouldn't notice if we simply didn't show up."

Mary glanced at the display on her phone as it chimed and muttered, "I'll be glad when she gets on her broom tomorrow and flies back to D.C." Putting the phone to her ear, she answered, "Hey, Brandi. What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you were coming home tonight," she replied. "I was going to stay over at Peter's, but if you're coming home I'll have him drop me off."

"I should be there in another ten or fifteen minutes," Mary informed her. "We talked about staying over but Marshall decided to drive back tonight. He's got a hot date or something tomorrow."

"Well, tell him good luck from me," Brandi said.

Glancing at her partner as his own phone rang, she responded, "I'll tell him. Keep a good thought for him. The poor guy needs all the help he can get."

Giving her a look of annoyance from across the truck, Marshall turned his eyes back to the road as he answered, "Hello."

"_Marshall_!" a panicked voice hissed. "_Someone is trying to get into my house_!"

He slammed on the brakes so hard, Mary's breath was nearly knocked from her as the passenger-side seat belt caught across her chest and sent a pain shooting through her still-tender stomach. A quick look at her partner's face was all she needed to immediately dispose of her caller by saying, "I have to go."

"Where are they trying to break into the house, Jess?" Marshall questioned as he spun the SUV around and floored it to head in the opposite direction.

In his one question, Mary had all the information she needed. She quickly dialed 9-1-1 in order to request assistance.

At the same time, Jessica exclaimed in a voice just above a whisper, "They're at the front door!"

"How many?" Marshall asked.

"I heard at least two voices."

"Is the front door locked?"

"Yes."

"Where are you within the house?"

"I'm going through the kitchen, to try to get out the back."

A second later, Marshall heard a crashing sound in the background, followed by a small yelp of surprise.

"What's happening?" he demanded. "Jess! Is everything all right?"

Her voice was even more frightened as she responded, "Someone just broke the window beside the back door!"

"Go into the spare bedroom and lock the door, then into the bathroom and do the same," he quickly told her.

All he could hear through the phone was uneven breathing for a moment. From beside him, Mary was briefly explaining the situation to Stan.

"Highway patrol is on the way. See if you can find any law enforcement agent who's anywhere near her area and get them to her house as quickly as possible," she told him. "I'll keep you posted."

As she returned her Blackberry to its holder, Marshall hit the speaker button on his own phone and asked, "Are both doors locked?"

"Yes," Jessica replied, the sound of her subdued voice filling the vehicle.

"I want you to climb out of the window and get away from the house. Do you think you can do that without being seen?" he questioned as he laid his phone on the console.

"I think so."

"Once you're out, you need to find a place to hide."

"The barn, in the tack room," she decided.

"Good, go there. But I want you to listen to me, Jess, this is important: Whatever you do, don't let them catch you out in the open. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she answered in a breathless voice.

"We're on our way – you only have to hold on for a few minutes. Mary has called for help so someone from the sheriff's department may be there even sooner."

"Please hurry, Marshall!" she urged, the fear in her voice not diminished in the least despite being barely above a whisper. "I'm…"

All sound emanating from the phone ended abruptly.

Glancing at Mary with wide eyes when she picked up his phone, Marshall swallowed hard as she examined it.

"The line is dead," she reported in dismay. "She probably dropped the phone when she was climbing through the window."

"We can't call her back," he pointed out in a slightly panicked voice. "They may not know she's there. If the phone rings, it could give her away."

Mary shook her head and her voice was full of anguish as she declared, "Oh God, Marshall, we're not going to make it! We're too far away!"

Gritting his teeth, he focused only on driving, terrified that her prediction would turn out to be true.

***When the government-owned SUV noisily careened around the corner, siren blaring, to turn onto the road leading to Jessica's house, Mary could see a patrol car approaching from the opposite direction down the highway with its lights flashing. Focusing ahead of them, she noticed with alarm that there was only darkness and knew it meant they were going to be the first on the scene. She had hoped help for her witness had already arrived.

Taking two flashlights from the console, she unbuckled her seatbelt and prepared to leap out. Placing one flashlight on the seat beside her partner's leg, she waited, poised and ready, for the truck to come to a stop. It was still skidding in the gravel when she opened the door and took off. Within seconds, she was trying the front door, only to find it locked.

From behind her, she heard Marshall say, "I'm going left!"

She sprinted to the edge of the porch and jumped off, heading around the right side of the house while she drew her gun. When she reached the back, she stopped and took a deep breath, then cautiously peered around the corner. A hand signal from her partner alerted her to two figures running toward them. Her pounding heart skipped a beat when she realized they were coming from the direction of the barn.

Focusing on Marshall in the faint moonlight, she watched for her cue, and when the approaching figures were within a few yards of the house, they both stepped out in unison.

"U.S. Marshals! Drop your weapons and get on the ground!" he shouted.

The startled men skidded to a stop and prepared to run in the opposite direction when Mary added from the other side of the house, "Do it now!"

Hesitating for only a second, the men both raised their hands in the air. "Okay, okay! We're giving it up! Don't shoot!" one declared.

The marshals were on them in an instant, forcing them to the ground and confiscating their weapons. They were in the process of handcuffing them when two patrolmen appeared from around the side of the house.

Holding up her badge, Mary quickly explained, "We're U.S. Marshals. We need to find the person who lives here. Can you take charge of these two?"

"Sure thing," one immediately complied.

She jumped up to find that Marshall had already taken off through the open back gate of the rail fence. As she headed for the barn at a dead run, all she could see in the nearly pitch blackness was the jarring light of his flashlight several yards ahead to guide the way. She arrived at the barn as he was swinging the large door aside. Stepping into the stale air, she trained her own flashlight on her partner's back as he ran toward a smaller door in front of them.

He flipped up the latch and opened the door while she quickly called, "Jessica? Are you in here?"

"Jess!" Marshall repeated as he frantically shined his light around the perimeter of the room.

From the far end, they heard her voice respond. "Marshall!"

Both beams of light instantly focused on the sound to reveal Jessica scrambling out from behind a stack of crates. Marshall's flashlight clattered to the plank floor and he ran the few steps to meet her, then caught her as she threw herself into his arms.

Mary let out a pent-up breath and briefly closed her eyes, whispering with relief, "Thank God!"

Marshall leaned back and took Jessica's face in his hands, asking anxiously, "Are you all right? Are you hurt at all?"

She shook her head, eyes wide with fright.

Pulling her trembling body against him again, he said shakily, "When I saw them coming from this direction, I thought we were too late." With a catch in his voice he added, "I thought they had found you."

"They were in here, inches away from where I was hiding! If they hadn't heard you coming they would've found me!" she exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a sob.

"It's all right, I'm here now – you're safe," he assured her as he hugged her tightly to him and pressed his cheek against her hair.

From beside them, Mary's mouth dropped open as she stared at the two, realization setting in. Shaking her head in disbelief, she muttered, "Son of a bitch! How could I have been so blind? It was right in front of me all along!"

Ignoring her, Marshall took Jessica by the shoulders and said softly into her hair, "Come on. We have to go."

***"We're on our way in," Mary reported, holding her phone to her ear with one hand while steering with the other. "Highway patrol is ahead of us and will be delivering the perps to you. When they get there, can you put them in an interrogation room? We'll bring Jessica in through the parking garage. We made sure that no one on the scene saw her."

"No problem," Stan replied. "How is she?"

"We got to her before they found her but she's pretty shaken up. Marshall's taking care of her," she answered, forcing the sarcasm from her voice with difficulty as she glanced in the rearview mirror at her witness secured in her partner's arms.

"Do you think she did something that compromised her location?"

"No, I don't. I know her and she's careful, Stan. That isn't the case here, I'd stake my life on it."

"All right. We'll figure it out. Drive carefully and I'll be waiting when you get here."

***Stan was hovering when they exited the elevator.

"How are we doing?" he asked, pulling the security door open for them.

"_We_ could use a good stiff belt," Mary retorted as they entered. Tossing the SUV keys on her desk, she then led the way to the conference room.

Marshall kept his arm around Jessica protectively as they followed, assuring himself that the gesture wasn't unusual given the circumstances. The scathing looks his partner had shot in his direction hadn't gone unnoticed and eventually would be dealt with. But he certainly didn't need to do something to arouse the suspicion of their boss.

Once they had all filed into the conference room, Marshall guided Jessica to a chair, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly as she sat down. "I'll go get you some water."

As he walked out Mary started to follow, wanting to take advantage of their first opportunity to be alone in order to confront him. But at the sight of her witness still pale and trembling, she put her intentions, as well as her anger, on hold and took a seat beside her.

Taking Jessica's hand in hers, she said softly, "Hey, it's okay. You're safe here. You don't have to worry."

She nodded and closed her eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Stan asked gently as Marshall returned with water.

Opening the bottle, Marshall handed it to her and she took a long drink before answering shakily, "Something woke me up not long after I went to bed, somewhere around 11:00. At first I wasn't sure what it was, then I heard a noise at the front door. I thought maybe it was this stray cat I've seen once in a while so I got up to see. I was almost to the door when I heard the voices." She took another drink and continued, "I grabbed my phone and I guess I hit Marshall's speed-dial number."

Taking over, Marshall reported, "She was going to go out the back when one of the perps broke the window beside the back door. I told her to lock the bedroom and bathroom doors, then climb out of the window."

"And that's what you did?" Stan prompted, addressing Jessica.

Nodding again, she said, "I dropped the phone when I was climbing out. I could see two men through the window when I went by, but I didn't think they saw me. I ran to the barn and hid in the tack room."

She bit her lip and took quick short breaths, fighting the panic as she recalled the events. Mary squeezed her hand comfortingly. "It's all right. Just take your time."

After a few seconds, she continued haltingly, "I don't know how long I was in there before I heard the door open. One of the men said, 'Go look over there,' and I could see a light getting closer." She began trembling harder as she said softly, "I was sure they were going to find me. They shined the light around for a few minutes, and then one of them said he heard a siren. They both took off. A few minutes later, Mary and Marshall came in."

Marshall clenched his teeth, still standing stoically beside her chair as she took several sips of water in order to try and regain control. It took every ounce of his willpower to not bend down and wrap her in his arms.

"Were you able to hear any other conversation between the two?" Stan asked.

"No. Their voices were too muffled when they were at the front door."

"And they didn't call each other by name?"

"Not that I heard," she answered.

Looking over her shoulder at her boss, Mary added, "We found their car parked off of the highway. They walked the quarter of a mile to her house from there."

Stan nodded and ran his hand over the top of his smooth head. "I took their wallets and punched their names into the NCIC database as soon as they came in. I'll go see what's popped up before we interrogate them." Standing up, he addressed Jessica, saying kindly, "Don't worry. We'll figure out what to do after we speak with them. You'll be safe here in the mean time."

Mary gave her a slight smile. "There are few places on earth safer than a building occupied by gun-toting U.S. Marshals. We may be a while, so if you want you can try to get some sleep. There's a couch in a little alcove near the kitchen where you can lie down."

"Okay," she agreed softly.

"I'll show her," Marshall offered, reaching for her arm.

"Yeah, why don't you do that?" Mary suggested, giving him another searing look.

Avoiding his partner's eyes, he put his arm around Jessica again and walked her from the room.

***"The computers are hinky tonight. Nothing has come through on either perp yet," Stan informed his inspectors. "Hopefully we'll have some information by the time we finish interrogating them."

"I'd sure like to have something solid on the threat assessment tonight," Mary noted. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Jess, but one of them was carrying a big-ass knife and the other had a .25 caliber Raven semi-automatic."

"That's not exactly the gun of a hired assassin," Stan acknowledged.

"No, but it's cheap, easy to get rid of, and the bullets are just as deadly," she replied.

"They also had some electronics and other items waiting by the back door," Marshall explained. "It appears that they were going to make it look like a robbery."

Letting out a sigh, Stan said, "It sounds like the two of you made it just in the nick of time."

"I think we have to at least consider the possibility that there's a leak in McArthur's office," Mary pointed out. "It seems like a pretty big coincidence that someone showed up at Jess' house only a few days after he called to let us know when he would be arriving. I'm not suggesting that he's the leak, but someone in his office could've overheard his conversation or had access to his travel plans."

"While that may be true, I don't want to hear any further mention of it until we have some solid proof," Stan warned. "We're not going to be responsible for casting a shadow over an office of the U.S. Attorney unless we're damn sure of our facts. Right now, we don't know how these men found her." He motioned to the room before them and added, "Marshall and I will take this one, Mary. Dietrich, from the Phoenix office, will help you interrogate the other."

She nodded. "I'll meet you in the middle and we'll compare notes once we're finished."

***Closing the door of the interrogation room behind her, Mary leaned back against it and let out a weary sigh. Her body ached in every imaginable place and her head was beginning to feel as though it was stuffed with Styrofoam packing pellets. It didn't help that after nearly an hour of questioning, she knew next to nothing about the man she had left sitting at the table in the small room.

Pushing herself forward with some effort, she made her way down the hallway toward the other interrogation room. Before she reached it, she saw her boss emerging.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Not well. The guy claims he and his partner were at Jessica's house looking for cash and electronics to pawn so they could buy drugs. And he stuck to the story the whole time. I couldn't shake him from it."

"Same with the other guy," she responded. "He was almost convincing. I guess they got their story straight beforehand." Motioning to the door behind him, she asked, "Is Marshall still in with him?"

"No, he cut out some time ago, when it became apparent that the guy was going to continue singing the same tune. He said he was going to go relieve Charlie and sit with Jessica."

Mary gritted her teeth, then said in a deceptively sweet tone, "I think I'll go join them."

"I'm going to let Dietrich take care of our guests, then I'll check the database again. I'll come find you when I'm done."

***She was royally pissed as she marched down the hallway. His abandoning Stan in the middle of an interrogation was the last straw. _Marshall, with her witness_. How could he have done such a thing? The guy who had nearly every regulation committed to memory, to have so brazenly broken the rules? More importantly, how could he have kept such a thing from her? _From her_. After all they had faced and survived together, how could he not trust her enough to tell her? Did he think she, of all people, would rat him out for his breach of protocol and monumental lack of good judgment? She, the person who proverbially threw the book out of the window on a regular basis and disdainfully stomped it into the coppery New Mexico dust? How could he not trust _her_? And, most important of all, how could he have grown close to someone else without her even realizing it…

She stopped short in the entry of the alcove, the words on the tip of her tongue remaining there, struck into silence by the look on her partner's face as he sat a few feet away watching her witness.

After studying him soundlessly for a moment, she cleared her throat slightly and noted, "So she was finally able to fall asleep."

"I made her drink a generous shot of your whiskey before I left her with Charlie. It wouldn't have happened otherwise. She was still too upset."

"Out after only one shot, huh? Not much of a drinker, is she?"

"No, she isn't," he answered quietly.

She took a step closer and tried to keep the accusation out of her voice as she pointed out, "Stan said you left him alone to finish the interrogation. Any particular reason why?"

"I couldn't continue sitting there listening to the son of a bitch lie," he shrugged. "I wanted to do him physical harm, the way I did when we were cuffing the bastards. I didn't trust myself to remain in the same room with him any longer."

Accepting his explanation and even sympathizing with the sentiment, she took another tentative step toward him. "Are you all right?"

"That would depend on your definition of 'all right'," he noted dryly, his focus never straying from the sleeping form on the couch.

With her anger momentarily pushed aside, her tone was gentle as she queried, "Should I ask what you were thinking, or should I just assume that you weren't?"

"It isn't like I planned it," he pointed out, then added even more softly, "It just happened."

"It always does," she agreed with only a hint of her usual sarcasm. "How long?"

Letting out a sigh, he answered, "We didn't actually go on a date until after the month that I helped her at her place."

With a smirk, she said, "Wow. That means you've been together for over four months now. That does explain a lot."

"I don't think you can really count the six weeks you were in the hospital since I spent most of my waking hours during that time either with you or trying to track down the bastard who shot you," he pointed out.

"Sounds like splitting hairs, but all right." Watching him closely, she asked, "Have you slept with her?"

He turned his head deliberately to give her a piercing look. "And why would that be any of your business?"

A little of her previous anger returned as she retorted, "Because she's my witness. I'm responsible for her safety and I know I don't need to tell you, of all people, how seriously I take that responsibility. She's scheduled to testify in two weeks against the people who killed her family and are actively seeking to kill her, too. I'm trying to figure out how deep you're in this and how much damage control I'm looking at. Whether or not you slept with her affects her emotional well-being. That, as you well know, can affect every decision she makes from this point forward, including whether or not to follow through with her testimony."

Glancing away, he admitted, "We haven't slept together."

"Thank goodness for small favors," she muttered, half to herself.

After a pause, Marshall asked, "Did you tell Stan?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "I didn't see the point."

He looked up at her, his eyes revealing a deep pool of pain. "Because, in all probability, the point will be moot as soon as she's given a new identity and relocated half-way across the country, right?"

She slowly walked the few steps to him and rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze as empathy sent a stab through her heart. "I'm sorry, Marshall. I know how much this stinks."

He quickly turned away from her and the entryway at the sound of approaching footsteps. Mary looked over her shoulder to find Stan coming toward them.

"The computers are completely down and we probably won't get any information from NCIC until the morning," their boss reported in a hushed voice. "Why don't you stash her in a hotel for the night and we'll figure out where to go from there tomorrow? The two of you look like you're dead on your feet."

Mary nodded. "I'll stay with her tonight. We'll get a fresh start in the morning."

"Bring her in with you. She can stay here until we make a decision." Raising his hand in a semblance of a wave, he added, "Good-night, you two."

"Night, Stan," Mary responded. Turning to Marshall when he had left, she said, "I'll go make the reservation."

"I'm not letting her stay in a hotel," he stated resolutely.

Giving him a look of confusion, she questioned, "What?"

"I'm taking her home with me."

"Marshall…" she began.

"I don't care about rules or protocol," he interrupted. "I need to know, to be able to see for myself, that she's safe. I need her … I need her to be close," he finished, trying to put into rational words a decidedly irrational feeling.

She shook her head sympathetically. "Don't do this to yourself. Spending the night with her is only going to make facing the inevitable more difficult. In all likelihood, she'll be at a new location by the end of business tomorrow."

"Don't you think I know that? And is it so difficult to understand that I want to be with her for whatever time we have left together?"

Studying him for a moment, she wanted desperately to ease his pain. With a sigh of acquiescence, she finally replied, "Take her home. I'll call you in the morning and come by to pick her up on my way here."

"Thanks," he acknowledged gratefully.

"Don't mention it." Giving him a pointed look, she insisted, "Really – _don't mention it_. I'm going to check into a hotel and, if asked, swear that she was with me. Her real whereabouts are just between the three of us."

He nodded. "Understood." He bit his lip, his gaze settling on Jessica once more. His voice wavered slightly as he asked, "What am I going to do, Mare? How am I going to let her go?"

Giving his shoulder another squeeze, she answered kindly, "With a gentle kiss and your sincere best wishes for a long and safe life. It's your only choice."

***Marshall could still hear water running when he turned his head to listen. Jessica had taken his suggestion upon arriving and had yet to emerge from the shower. She had hardly spoken a word since he had awakened her at the office. He hoped a hot shower would make her feel more at ease, but conversation was also the last thing he wanted. He simply didn't trust himself. It had been a battle to keep his emotions in check and he was afraid that if his grip slipped for even a second, he wouldn't be able to regain control.

He stared out of the window of his living room and rested his head against the glass cooled by the high desert air outside. After having been up for almost twenty-four hours straight, his body begged for sleep. The whirlwind of events had left him even more exhausted, mentally and emotionally, besides physically. But nothing, not even blissful sleep, was going to make the ache in his chest go away. He wished he could rewind the events of the evening, back to the point where he had answered his phone in the truck, and replay them with a different outcome. If only she had called simply to tell him how much she was looking forward to lunch with him the following day, or spending the up-coming weekend together. If only it had been nothing more than a stray cat at her door… All of their plans, all of the happiness, had been vaporized by the ring of his cell phone.

When he heard a sound coming from his bedroom, he straightened and turned. Entering through the open door, he found her dressed in a fresh over-sized tee shirt and flannel boxers, similar to what she had been wearing when they found her in the barn. She was in the process of placing her previously worn clothes into the hastily-packed tote bag he had left on the bed for her.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded and hooked her hair behind one ear. "Thanks. I do feel better."

He took a step closer and suggested, "Why don't you sit and relax for a minute? After all the excitement, I could use a hot shower myself, to wind down a little. Can I get you something first? Water or some tea?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine for now. And I know where everything is if I do need something."

"Okay. I'll be right back," he promised, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

***It had been less than fifteen minutes when he came out of the bathroom, showered, shaved, and wearing pajamas. When he didn't find Jessica where he had left her, he walked into the living room and saw her standing in front of the window, much where he had been shortly before. In the reflection of the glass, he saw her hastily wipe her cheek when she heard him. The ache in his chest intensified as he slowly approached her. Part of him wanted to wrap her tightly in his arms, and part of him was afraid that if he so much as touched her, he'd never let go.

To give himself a moment to collect himself, he turned around and made his way to the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of water. He returned to the living room and stopped beside her.

Holding one out, he noted, "You look tired."

She took the offered bottle and turned back to the window. "I am. It's been a long day. And I suppose tomorrow will be even longer."

Not wanting to even think about the day to come, let alone discuss it, he advised a bit dismissively, "Don't worry. It's going to be all right."

Turning to regard him, she shook her head. "Don't bother with the platitudes. I actually listened when the WITSec rules were read to me. I know what this all means. In a few hours I'm going to be on a plane headed for God-knows-where to start all over again. And nothing about that is going to be all right."

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before assuring her, "Whatever happens will be done to ensure your safety. That's the most important issue right now. And we don't even know what's going to happen yet. Until we find out more about the men who broke into your house, we won't know how to respond. It may not be necessary for you to leave Albuquerque. It's possible that you could be back home by tomorrow night."

After studying him carefully for a moment, she asked softly, "Do you really believe that?"

It took a few seconds before he trusted his voice enough to say, "I want to. With every fiber of my being, I want to." When he saw her eyes beginning to fill with tears, he put an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. You need to sleep."

She willingly allowed him to guide her to the bedroom. He stopped beside the bed and pulled back the comforter and sheet.

"If you need anything, just call me," he told her.

Whirling to face him, she asked with a hint of panic in her voice, "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right outside the door, on the couch," he assured her. "I'll hear you if you call."

She stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Please don't leave me alone, Marshall."

He closed his eyes, feeling as though his heart was going to break into a million pieces. It was the conversation he had dreaded all night, but knew was inevitable all the same. Letting her go without telling her how he felt simply wasn't an option. After searching for words for a moment, he wetted his lips and confessed quietly, "When I saw those men coming from the barn tonight, Jess, all I could think about was how I might never get the chance to hold you again, to be close to you, to tell you all the things I want you to know. Now that you're safe, I don't think I can sleep in the same room with you without making love to you. I want to be with you too much. And if I make love to you, I'm afraid I won't be able to let you go if and when the time comes."

Her eyes widened as she searched his face. Then, initial surprise turned into a look of hopefulness. "There are other options," she pointed out softly. "I could drop out of WITSec. Then I wouldn't have to leave."

He immediately shook his head. "Absolutely not. I won't let you do that. It's too dangerous. With the trial only two weeks away, the men you're testifying against will be looking for you more than ever. If you leave the program, in all likelihood they will find you. I couldn't live with the possibility of that happening."

She looked at the floor and he could see her chest heaving as she fought for control of her own emotions. When she looked back up, there were tears in her eyes again. "I don't want to do this anymore. It was different when the only two people I loved were killed and I didn't have anything else to lose. And if someone could give me a guarantee that my testimony would put these guys away for life, I would still be more than willing. But we both know there are no guarantees. I could risk my life to testify and they might still get off. They've already taken all I had from me once by killing my child and husband. Now they're taking it from me again. I've wanted for so long to be with someone like you. I can't lose everything again."

Without a heartbeat of hesitation, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. When he felt her ragged breaths, he stroked her hair and murmured, "Shhh, don't cry." Leaning back slightly, he took her face in his hands, then brushed her tears away with his thumbs. "There's no point in worrying about this tonight. No matter what happens tomorrow, we'll face it together. We'll figure out what to do. I promise."

She nodded and closed her eyes wearily.

He leaned down and kissed her gently, then said, "Let's get some sleep."

***When Marshall's cell phone rang, he reached for it immediately and hit the silence button on the side. Glancing at the read-out, he then looked to his left where Jessica's head was resting on his shoulder. He managed to ease up slightly without waking her and replaced his shoulder with his pillow, then carefully got out of bed. Padding quietly through the bedroom door, he closed it before flipping his phone open.

"Yeah, Mare."

"How are things going this morning?" she asked. "Is Jess still asleep?"

"She is. It took a while for both of us to wind down last night," he explained as he dropped into an armchair. "Have you heard from Stan yet?"

"I spoke with him a few minutes ago. I told him we'd be at the office in an hour or so, after Jess woke up, that she had a bad night and didn't get much sleep."

With a tired sigh, he noted, "The bad night part certainly wasn't a lie."

"You would've had to be in pretty close proximity to her in order to know that," she pointed out thoughtfully.

"Everyone in my apartment building knows that," he corrected. "The screaming nightmare was difficult to miss."

"Geez," she replied softly. "I'm sorry you both had to go through that."

"I guess it was to be expected."

"Even though we didn't discuss it with her last night, I take it she understands exactly what it means if it turns out that these guys were sent to kill her."

The ache in his chest was instantly back. "She knows."

"Look, I don't want you to say anything to her yet, but after talking with Stan, we may not have to relocate her. Well … not outside of Albuquerque, anyway."

He sat bolt-upright, barely daring to breathe. "What do you mean?"

"It looks like the perps may have been telling the truth last night, that they're just a couple of punk-ass dope heads who were looking for stuff to sell so they could score. Nothing in their arrest history suggests that they're connected to anyone. They've only been picked up for petty stuff to date. And they certainly don't qualify as criminal masterminds."

After taking a couple of deep breaths, he responded softly, "You're not screwing with me, are you? Because I'm just barely hanging on here, Mary."

Slightly taken aback at his admission, she assured him quietly, "No, Marshall, I wouldn't do that."

"So the break-in could be a coincidence?" he suggested, trying to keep the hope from his voice.

"Yeah, it could be a simple result of living in what's now a nice house out in the middle of nowhere, isolated from all things civilized and looking like an easy mark. Stranger things have happened. But I don't want to get Jessica's hopes up until we're sure. Stan isn't finished with the threat assessment. There may still be something we've missed."

"How soon will we know?"

"He said that by the time we get to the office, he should have something definitive."

"All right. I'll wake her up and give you a call when we're ready."

"Why don't you let her sleep a while longer? Stan's not expecting us any time soon and I haven't even taken a shower. I'll text you when I'm heading your way," she promised. "However this turns out, it's most likely going to be a long day for all of us. No sense rushing into it."

***Sitting in the chair across the room from his bed, he watched while Jessica slept. More than anything, he wanted to crawl back under the covers and feel her warm body pressed against his. But he knew he should let her sleep undisturbed, if for no other reason than to limit the waking time he spent with her before Mary arrived. She had insisted he not say anything to Jessica about the possibility of remaining in Albuquerque, and given that she was Mary's witness, he was obliged to comply. The task was not going to be an easy one, though. He was afraid that as soon as Jessica opened her eyes and looked into his, the hope that had replaced the ache in his chest was going to be all too visible to her. The less time he spent with her before leaving for the office, the better.

He would just have to wait to wake her until he knew Mary was on her way.

***As they filed in through the security door, the three of them caught sight of Stan sitting in the conference room. Motioning, he beckoned them in. Spread on the table before him were files and reports.

"Have a seat," he suggested, taking note of Jessica's pale and somber appearance. When all were situated, he folded his hands on the table and without preliminary reported, "We've finished the threat assessment and it looks like these guys are exactly what they stated last night: local junkies. There's absolutely nothing tying them to anyone farther up the food chain. They've both done a minimal amount of time for minor offenses, starting when they were teenagers, right here in Albuquerque."

Marshall let out an audible breath and Jessica's eyes widened as she studied Stan, almost in disbelief. "So they weren't sent by the men I'm testifying against?"

"No, they weren't. That doesn't mean they wouldn't have harmed you if they had found you, but they were acting on their own."

She swallowed and asked softly, "Does that mean I won't have to leave Albuquerque?"

"That's what it means," he replied. "However, we do feel that it's in your best interest to move you out of your home. Under the circumstances, it's the safest course. The perps don't know who you are but they have to be wondering what all the fuss was about after being interrogated and held by U.S. Marshals. They may decide to go back to the house and try to figure it out. We're going to hold them for the rest of today, then turn them over to ABQPD in the morning. That will give us time to pack up your house and move your belongings before they make bail. The ultimate decision is yours, of course, but we feel it's best."

"All right," she agreed slowly, appearing to be stunned.

"I lined up some local movers and I have a list of apartments with availability for you to take a look at. We should be able to have you settled in a new place by this evening." Motioning to a figure approaching the door, he added, "Charlie will pull up the list of apartments on the computer and you can look them over while I have a word with my inspectors in my office."

Mary got up and joined her boss and Marshall as they made their way out. She had been sitting to the side, studying both her witness and her partner during the discussion with Stan. To their credit, not so much as a glance had passed between them, but she knew both well enough to read the mutual expressions of relief on their faces upon learning that Jessica would remain in Albuquerque. And something about that stirred the anger that had been smoldering inside of her since finding out about their involvement.

"The timing of this incident couldn't be worse," Stan pointed out when he had closed the door to his office behind her. "With only two weeks until she testifies, we need to do everything within our power to smooth things over and keep Jessica calm. I want both of you to spend a lot of time with her, starting today, helping her pack and then getting settled into her new place. Hold her hand, buy her dinner, tuck her in at night if you have to, but don't let this rattle her to the point that she starts having second thoughts about testifying. She's facing a tough few days in Harrisburg. I called David McArthur right after I finished the threat assessment to let him know what had happened. He said there's an unsubstantiated rumor going around that the drug cartel has put out a contract on Jessica. I guess they figured that if they couldn't find her, they'd make it worth the while of every other low-life in the area to keep their eyes pealed for her."

Concern for her witness poured cold water on Mary's anger once again and she focused intently her boss. "Did McArthur say what they were doing about the threat? Are they trying to find out if the rumor is true?"

"They're doing everything they can but you know how those things go. No one is going to talk, not with a big fat bounty dangling in front of them as an incentive not to. He said they're working on getting extra security brought in and finding a place to stash her that meets everyone's approval. That's about all he can do at the moment."

"So we'll essentially be escorting Jess to within arm's reach of every scumbag on the East coast who wants a piece of the action," Marshall concluded.

"More or less, but she doesn't need to hear that. There's no reason to needlessly upset her," Stan answered.

"Don't you think she has the right to know what she's going to be facing?" Marshall asked pointedly.

"No, I don't. The rumor is unsubstantiated so there's no point in bringing it up. With everything that happened last night, we're not going to add to her stress."

Looking to his partner for support, Marshall's eyebrows raised expectantly when their eyes met. But Mary shook her head. "I'm with Stan on this. I don't think we should tell her. The rumor could simply be the result of the cartel blowing smoke, to try to scare her into not testifying. But we all know that not testifying isn't an option. It's the condition of her remaining in the program, which is even more crucial if there is indeed a price on her head. Whatever awaits her, it's our job to protect her. Knowing what she's facing helps us to be better prepared. Telling her the details is only going to upset her, though."

Mary could see the muscle in Marshall's jaw tighten as he bit back any further protest.

"Then it's settled: not a word to Jessica about this. Let's help her get through the next two weeks as smoothly as possible. As of right now, she's your only assignment."

***As the inspectors neared the conference room, Jessica looked up. Although her eyes briefly met Marshall's, her gaze fixed on Mary when the two approached.

"Did you find a place?" Mary asked.

"I believe so. There's an apartment complex close to my office that has availability."

"I'll make the arrangements and call you with the details," Charlie offered.

Mary nodded. "Good. We need to get going. We have some packing to do."

Jessica got up to follow the marshals out. Leading the way to the security door, Mary opened it and allowed her to pass through, then followed as Marshall held it in turn. After waiting in brief silence for the elevator, the three entered and headed down to the parking garage.

Leaning back against the wall, Mary regarded the other two again as Marshall first glanced at her, then focused on Jessica. It wasn't difficult to read his expression, or Jessica's when she looked up at him. Out of curiosity to see what they would do, rather than approval or even courtesy, she scrolled through her phone messages and remarked casually, "If you two kids want to have a moment, don't hold back on my account. Just pretend I'm not here."

It was all the encouragement Marshall needed and, somewhat to Mary's surprise, he immediately reached for Jessica. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly. As Jessica clung to him, burying her face against his chest, he smiled and said softly, "You see? I told you there was no sense in worrying last night."

***"You remember the drill from last time you did this: stickers go on the stuff you want moved, everything else will be liquidated," Mary explained, handing sheets of bright blue dots to her witness.

Jessica nodded as she took them. "I remember. There are a few pieces of furniture I'd like to leave to be sold with the house but I'll take most of it with me."

"The movers will pack up the kitchen and anything else you want them to. Just put a sticker on the outside of the cabinet or drawer you want packed. You don't have a lot of stuff, but on the outside chance that the movers aren't able to get everything done in one day, I suggest you pack some clothes and toiletries to get you through tomorrow if you didn't get what you needed last night."

"I will need some clothes for work," Jessica decided. "I'll mark what I want moved and then grab some things from the bedroom."

***Jessica slowly walked through the house, surveying each room, then returned to the kitchen where Mary was waiting. "I think I've marked everything. There were only a few things in the garage that I needed and nothing in the barn. All that's left is my bedroom."

Before Mary could respond, Marshall joined them and announced, "Someone will be out in a couple of hours to repair the window that was broken. I'm also having a double-key lock put on the back door so it can't be unlocked if the window is broken again."

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I don't need to be here when they arrive, do I? I have a job this afternoon."

Marshall took a step toward her, concerned. "Can't you find someone to cover for you? With everything that's happened, you should take the day and get some rest."

"There isn't anyone to cover for me today. The job won't take very long, though. It's an office party for someone who's retiring. It should be over no later than 5:30, including clean-up."

"We'll stay here and see that everything is done," Mary assured her. "And I'll call Charlie to see what we need to do on the apartment. If need be, we'll pick up the keys for you and let the movers in. After you finish with work, you can meet us there."

"Are you sure? That's asking a lot of you. I'm sure the two of you have other things to do," Jessica noted.

Mary shook her head. "Actually, we don't. Getting you moved and safely settled is our top priority at the moment. We'll do whatever we need to in order to make the transition as painless as possible."

"That's really kind of you and I appreciate the help." Jessica checked the clock on the microwave and added, "I'll need to leave soon to pick up what I need for work, so I'd better go pack now."

"I'll give you a hand," Mary offered, leaving her glass of iced tea on the counter to follow. When she reached the bedroom door, she whirled around to face Marshall, who was bringing up the rear. "Why don't you go secure things outside? I'll help Jess finish up in here."

"I've already secured the outside," he responded.

She put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him back slightly. "Go check again."

His eyes narrowed as he planted his feet and studied her suspiciously. "Why are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Because I need to have a word in private with my witness," she replied. Giving him a cheerful smile, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone and added, "You know – girl talk."

Mary took note of the fear that flashed into his eyes with a certain sense of satisfaction. He lowered his voice and warned, "Don't do this, Mary. Remember what Stan said? We're supposed to be keeping her calm. If you want to rain down fire on someone, save it for me. She's completely innocent here so leave her alone."

"Awww, sticking up for her, willing to take all the responsibility on yourself – how sweet," she said with feigned admiration. Taking a step closer so that he could see the gathering storm in her eyes, she assured him, "Don't worry. Hell will be raining down on you soon enough." Then, giving him another shove, she ordered, "Now get out."

As the bedroom door closed in his face, Marshall clenched his teeth. He had a mind to barge in anyway, and stay put until Jessica was safely out of the house. But he knew he was walking a fine line as it was. All things considered, Mary had a right to be angry. And he knew from firsthand experience that provoking her more was a very bad idea for all concerned. After a moment's indecision, he turned and walked away. His only option was to pick up the pieces and smooth things over with Jessica after the fact. After all, she was a lot more reasonable than the other woman in his life.

***"If there's anything you'd rather the movers not pack, let me know and I'll take care of it," Mary informed Jessica as she watched her lay out a couple days worth of work clothes on the bed. "Something you don't want to take a chance on getting broken, for instance, or anything particularly embarrassing. Believe me, I've seen it all."

Glancing at her, Jessica gave her a faint smile. "I can believe that. But unless I should consider Tampax to be embarrassing, I think I'm okay."

Taking a seat on the bed, Mary noted, "I'm sorry for the way things are turning out. It must be heartbreaking to leave this house after all the work you put into it."

Jessica shrugged as she pulled underwear out of a drawer. "It isn't as difficult as you might think. It's only a house."

"Unlike having to leave behind a person you care about, right?"

"Something like that," Jessica agreed softly.

"And do you care about him?" Mary questioned, watching her closely.

Turning to regard her in surprise, she answered readily, "Of course I do. I wouldn't be with him otherwise."

"I hope that's true, because he means a lot to me, Jess," Mary confessed quietly. "He's been there to pick up the pieces for me more times than I can count. I depend on him for a lot more than what we do from nine to five. He isn't just my partner, he's my best friend. Hands down, Marshall is the finest man I've even known."

"I couldn't agree more," Jessica told her.

In a tone that was only half joking, Mary responded, "Good. Because you need to know up front that if you break his heart, I'll have to kick your ass."

A quick smile lit Jessica's face. "Well, as much fun as that sounds, I hope it won't become necessary." Growing more serious, she sighed and pointed out, "But I'm not really in the position to make any promises, am I? Being in WITSec isn't exactly conducive to happily-ever-after endings since we never know what tomorrow is going to bring." With a shrug, she added, "All I can promise you is that I'll never do anything to intentionally hurt him."

Mary studied her a moment, then nodded and gave her a slight smile. "Good enough."

***Marshall gripped the steering wheel, biting his lip as he tried to quell the churning in the pit of his stomach. Mary had hardly said a word to him all afternoon, choosing instead to busy herself helping the movers pack until all needed repairs were complete and they were free to leave Jessica's house. He glanced over to find her looking out of the truck window, lazily watching the world go by. Her perfectly unconcerned demeanor only added to his anger and uneasiness, not to mention fueling his imagination, at what could be responsible for apparently having caused her to release her previous anger. The fact that Jessica had left right after speaking with Mary, while he was still outside and without so much as a word to him, seemed to confirm his worst fears.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he finally demanded, "What did you say to Jess?"

Without even blinking an eye, Mary responded calmly, "None of your damn business."

"I care about her, Mary. That should count for something."

She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "Still none of your damn business."

"She isn't responsible for any of this," he insisted. "She didn't do anything wrong. You have no right blaming her."

Her head whipped around, and without even looking at her, he knew she hadn't let go of her anger after all. "Oh, don't worry. I know exactly where to place the blame in this situation. Jessica isn't bound by any rules barring her from becoming involved with you. Nothing in the WITSec agreement she signed even came close to addressing that scenario. You, however, are bound by rules barring you from becoming involved with a witness. So I'm placing the blame where it belongs – squarely on you."

"Fine. Put the blame on me. I deserve it," he agreed. "But since you freely admit that she isn't bound by the same rules, you should've left Jess out of it."

"I don't need to justify my actions to you. She's my witness, or did you conveniently forget that? I can say anything to her that I think needs to be said. And she isn't completely without blame here. The two of you sat at lunch last week and for all intents and purposes lied to me by keeping the relationship a secret. She was as complicit in that as you, although I don't expect the same degree of loyalty from her."

"So what is it that you're most upset about? That I'm breaking the rules, that your witness and I are seeing each other, or that I didn't confide in you the details of my personal life?"

Mary looked out of the window again, unwilling to allow him to see that his last suggestion was actually the closest to the truth. "There really isn't much distinction there, to tell you the truth. At the moment, I'm pretty much equally pissed about all of it."

"You're at lease partly to blame, too, you know," he insisted defiantly.

Her eyebrows shot up as she turned toward him. "I'm _what_?"

"You're the one who told me to spend time alone with her, to try to get her to talk about the accident. And that's what I did. At first I spent our time together focusing on getting her to tell me how she felt. Then, after a while, I was telling her how I felt. That's how things got started."

She stared at him incredulously. "You've got some nerve trying to lay responsibility for your stupidity at my feet! You made a conscious choice. At least have the stones to own up to it. All you had to do was walk away when the job was finished. Then none of this would've happened."

"Well it did happen. And why shouldn't it? It seems to happen to everyone else. Stan beat up his first witness, slept with the guy's girlfriend, and agreed to run off with her. You fell into bed with one of your own witnesses and nearly sabotaged a murder investigation involving him. Why should I be the only one excluded from the club?"

"Because you're smarter than that and we expect more from you!" she snapped. "If you start screwing up like everyone else, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

He looked over at her, suspicious at what sounded to him like an off-hand compliment, despite the irate delivery. Unwilling to allow his anger to be appeased in the least, he retorted, "So it's 'do as I say, not as I do', right?"

"You knew better. I even warned you," she reminded him. "I told you to step back, to stop spending time alone with her once she opened up. You should've listened."

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do in my personal life!" he declared.

"Jess isn't some whore you picked up in a bar! She shouldn't _be_ part of your personal life! _She's my_ _witness_!"

"And someone I've come to care about personally," he pointed out. "You've made your own choices, now let me make mine."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"You managed to get engaged, then called it off, and now you're all chummy with Faber. Am I not allowed to find someone, too?"

She shook her head in confusion. "What does my personal life have to do with this conversation? It isn't even apples and oranges – it's apples and … snow boots. One thing isn't remotely related to the other."

"No? You want to be free to choose whomever you want. Why can't you accept that I want to do the same?"

"You're free to take up with any person on the planet you want – _with the exception of someone in the Witness Protection Program_! Do I really need to remind you of that?"

"If I want to risk my career to be with Jess, that's my decision. You've made more than your fair share of mistakes in the past seven years and I've stood by you every single time. Never once have I attacked you for the choices you've made, however bad those choices were. I've been there for you every step of the way, without judgment, despite my personal feelings. Why can't you afford me the same courtesy? What gives you the right to tell me what I can or can't do?"

"Because the consequences of what you're doing are going to destroy your professional life! You're a hairsbreadth away from getting fired for breaking the cardinal rule for WITSec Inspectors. As your partner, I have a vested interest in keeping that from happening, which means pointing out to you when you're doing something asinine, since you've clearly lost the ability to recognize asinine behavior in yourself!"

"Plenty of the choices you've made in your personal life have had consequences for your professional life, as well, if for no other reason than for how they've affected me!"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "I realize I've asked you to cover for me at times when problems in my family life have run rampantly out of control, but the affect on you was minimal. So other than one very brief slip-up with one witness a long time ago, how can you say that's true?"

"You got engaged to Raph and didn't even bother telling me! I had to figure it out for myself! You don't think that had any affect on me?"

Shaking her head in confusion, she retorted, "It certainly shouldn't have. You know I would've told you eventually."

"That isn't the point!"

"Then what is the point, Marshall? What is it that you seem to be trying so hard not to say here? Because I'm really not getting it," she noted irately.

He bit back the reply that was on the tip of his tongue and took a deep breath instead. He wasn't prepared to confess to her his true feelings, but he realized he had succeeded in backing himself into a position where he was going to have to tell her something. Deciding to use the same excuse he had used with Jessica months before, he explained more calmly, "When you told me you and Raph were engaged, the bottom fell out of my world. I was upset and confused. I knew things were going to change between the two of us as a result, at least to a certain degree, and I wasn't happy about that. So I threw myself into the task of helping Jess as a way to not think about it too much, to keep all the mixed feelings at bay. But somewhere along the way of helping her, simply being with her began to help me. I slowly began to feel as though I was stepping onto solid emotional ground again. Then you were telling me to stop seeing her, and she was telling me I shouldn't come over to help anymore once our project was finished because she thought she was imposing, and I felt like I had been backed into a corner. It made me realize how much she had come to mean to me, how much I enjoyed her company, and that I wasn't ready for the time we had been spending together to end. So on the day we finished the project, I told her how I felt." With a shrug, he added more quietly, "Then, a few weeks later, you were shot and the bottom fell out of my world again."

The anger instantly drained from Mary and she shook her head sympathetically. "Marshall…" she began, then stopped and frowned. "Wait a minute…" she said as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "That's where you were."

He glanced over at her. "What?"

"That evening, before I was shot … that's where you were going: to see Jess," she slowly concluded, watching him closely. "And that's why you felt so guilty. Not only were you not there when it happened, but you were with my witness to boot."

Biting his lip, he looked out of his window. "Hey, thanks. I feel so much better now that you've put it that way."

"You're the only person who blames you for that. We've already had this discussion. I don't blame you for not being there when I was shot and never will. Finding out who you were with doesn't change that," she insisted.

"I would've blamed myself, no matter what," he contended. "But during that whole ordeal, I realized just what kind of person Jess is. Instead of being resentful of my spending nearly every waking moment at the hospital with you, she was supportive. She called every single day to see how you were and how I was coping, she even brought food up to the hospital for everyone several times." Glancing at her, he assured her, "Don't worry; she stayed away from your family. The point is, Jess understands my relationship with you, sometimes better than I understand it myself. For that, and a lot of other reasons, she's become very important to me."

"You've spent four months with her. How important could she have become in four months?" Mary asked skeptically. "I mean, what do you really even know about her, about the person she is on the inside, when her life now is overshadowed by this huge, horrible tragedy from her past?"

He sounded more than a little defensive as he insisted, "I know plenty about her."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that she has a great sense of humor, she's kind, gentle, intelligent, nurturing, and she enjoys making people happy," he readily replied.

"Wow. Except for the sense of humor thing, she sounds like my alter ego – all the things I'm not," Mary pointed out a bit sarcastically to hide the twinge of jealousy she felt, not at the stated qualities, but at the fact that they were so easy for her partner to recite.

"There are plenty of qualities that the two of you share, as well."

Her curiosity suddenly piqued, she prompted, "For instance?"

"Well, her work is important to her and she believes that a job worth doing is worth doing well. She cares about others and will go out of her way to help someone in need. For example, do you remember seeing a thank you card posted on her refrigerator?"

"Yeah, I took it down and packed it this afternoon."

"It came from a 17 year old boy. She has another from his parents, sent to her when he died from leukemia a couple of months after Jess catered his high school graduation party. His parents had arranged the affair, choosing to keep it simple due to financial constraints. When Jess found out the details, she upgraded everything and charged them nothing. She even paid her workers out of her own pocket. You should read the card sometime to see how much what she did meant to him, how happy it made him."

"So … that was a nice thing to do," Mary acknowledged grudgingly.

"The injustices of this world weigh on her, too; something else you have in common. And I think she's also fiercely protective of those she loves."

"You think?"

"It's a little hard to gauge that one since everyone she's ever really loved is dead," he pointed out dryly.

Heaving a sigh, she reluctantly admitted, "So you know her. That doesn't change anything. Continuing with a relationship that could jeopardize your career is still a stupid idea, and I know of what I speak since I am intimately acquainted with stupid. Setting aside the whole breach of protocol thing, you know it can't end well. The two of you dodged the bullet this time, but there's always a chance that there will be a next time. You should think about cutting your losses now, before it's too late."

He shook his head slowly. "It already is."

She studied his profile carefully as he continued to focus on the road, finally asking disbelievingly, "Are you saying you're 'in love' with her?"

Marshall looked out of his window in order to avoid her close scrutiny. "Of course not. It's too soon in the relationship to know that."

Letting her head thump against the backrest, Mary closed her eyes. "Damn it, Marshall. Why couldn't you just walk away when I told you, before anything happened? Why did you have to get yourself into this mess? We are both so screwed if Stan finds out. You are really putting me in a tough spot here."

"Are you thinking of telling him?" he queried a bit apprehensively.

"No, I'm not going to tell him. It's my ass on the line as much as yours," she retorted crossly. "If Jessica doesn't testify, I'll be held as accountable as you. And just how cooperative do you think she'll be in Harrisburg if she's being escorted by our replacements?"

His tone was both relieved and persuasive. "And what about her? You won't keep punishing her for this, will you?"

Mary shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, she and I are square. I said all I needed to say to her today."

"Which was…" he fished.

Turning her head to look out of the window, she replied, "It's still none of your business. But I'm sure that if she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

***"The movers aren't quite finished unloading your furniture yet," Mary said into her phone. "We'd feel better if you stayed away until they were done. The fewer people who see you during this situation, the better."

"I understand. I have some paperwork to do at my office. You can call me when the coast is clear," Jessica responded.

"I will. It shouldn't be much longer. We'll be here while things are being wrapped up."

***Marshall held out his arms to indicate their surroundings. "So what do you think?"

Jessica nodded slowly. "It's nice. All my furniture fits in well. It's actually bigger than I imagined."

"Marshall is responsible for the placement of the furniture, in case you don't like the way it's set up," Mary pointed out. "We didn't unpack anything but a few boxes in the kitchen. We left everything out on the counter so you can arrange it the way you want."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate all you've done. I feel like I should've been here myself, though. You both worked so hard."

"We didn't do that much," Marshall argued. "The movers brought everything in and we mostly just told them where to put it all."

"Do you want us to help unpack a few more boxes?" Mary asked.

"No, of course not. It can wait. We're all tired. You should go home," Jessica insisted.

"Why don't I give you a hand tomorrow afternoon, then? Are you free for lunch?"

"Sure," she agreed.

"I'll be in touch mid-morning and we'll make plans. In the mean time, you know to call if you need anything."

"I will. And thanks for all you did, both last night and today."

"Don't forget that Stan said we could sleep in tomorrow," Marshall reminded her.

"I am not likely to forget that," Mary assured him. She retrieved her purse and swung it to her shoulder, then headed for the door. "I'll leave you two kids alone, now. I'd tell you not to do anything I wouldn't do, but that would leave you with way too many options."

Jessica gave her a smile. "See you tomorrow, Mary."

When the door closed and Jessica turned around, Marshall was already reaching for her. "I thought she'd never leave," he said as he pulled her to him. Burying his face in her hair, he added, "This is where I've wanted you to be all day long."

"And it's exactly where I've wanted to be." With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and held tightly to him. "When I woke up this morning, it didn't seem possible that I could actually be happy tonight. In fact, I had my doubts that I ever would be again."

He squeezed her tighter and admitted softly, "Happy doesn't even begin to cover it. I feel like a man whose death sentence has been commuted." Pulling back a little, he looked at her with an eager expression. "So do you want to move things around, or do some unpacking?"

She shook her head. "No. I want to take a quick shower, get something to eat, and then stretch out on the sofa with you. I don't want to work or even think about anything except how glad I am to be here with you."

He smiled and gently smoothed her hair from her cheek. "Sounds like a perfect evening to me."

***He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her warm skin sliding under his palm as he ran his hand down her arm and up again. It was almost as though he was afraid that if he lost physical contact with her, she would disappear right before his eyes.

"You've gone quiet on me again," he noted. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm all right. I was just thinking," she replied.

"Thinking about what?" he asked, entwining his fingers with hers.

"About how much things have changed in such a short period of time. Yesterday a client called and asked if I would cater for her in two weeks. I was half way through taking down the details when it dawned on me that someone else would have to cover for me, that I would be in Harrisburg on the day she requested. Today, though, I could think of nothing else. What happened last night really brought home to me what I could be facing when I return."

He was quiet a moment, thinking about the information Stan had shared with them that morning. Although he hadn't agreed at the time, it suddenly seemed like a good idea to keep it from her, at least for the time being. "A lot happened in the last twenty-four hours. But just like we got through that, we'll get through whatever happens in two weeks. I don't want you to worry so much about it."

She readjusted her position slightly from where she had been sitting with her back against his chest, so that she could see his face. "Will you mind too much if I ask you to repeat those words to me every day for the next two weeks?"

Stroking her hair, he smiled and assured her, "Not in the least."

Leaning back against him again, she noted, "I know you and Mary are used to the whole process, but it's all going to be new to me. I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"And that's what we'll do: help you through the process, in any way we can." He paused a moment, then added, "Speaking of Mary … I'm sorry if she upset you when the two of you talked at your house today. She tends to fly off the handle when she's angry and sometimes says things that are inappropriate. She usually apologizes once she cools down and has time to think about it, though."

"Mary wasn't angry when we talked," Jessica replied, shaking her head.

He frowned in confusion. "She wasn't?"

"No, she was just concerned about the two of us being together," she explained. "And given the way she found out about us, I thought what she said was quite appropriate."

"So she warned you that it was a bad idea, that I would end up hurting you," he concluded.

She turned again and gave him a puzzled look. "No, Marshall, she was concerned about _me_ hurting _you_."

His eyebrows arched. "What?"

"She wanted to make sure that I truly care about you. And in her shoes, I would've done the same."

He grew even more confused. "What did she say?"

With a slight smile, she answered, "She said she was going to kick my ass if I broke your heart."

"She did? You're kidding!" Slowly shaking his head, he noted, "No offense, but I think that's the nicest thing she's ever said about me."

"I don't know why you're so surprised," she pointed out. "We've had a conversation about this before, about how important you are to her and how much she values the relationship she has with you. It only makes sense that she would want to make sure of my intentions, as it were."

After regarding her for a moment, he said, "I guess I just assumed that she would be more concerned about my intentions towards you."

Jessica snuggled against him, pressing her cheek to his chest. "You assumed wrong. She already knows you and the kind of person you are. She doesn't know me as well."

Fingering her soft hair absent-mindedly, he thought about what she had said and wondered why Mary had allowed him to believe that she had lit into Jessica. And he was completely taken by surprise that she had been concerned about him and his feelings. He was still musing over it all when he realized that Jessica had been still and quiet for several long minutes. When he craned his head to see if she had fallen asleep, she stirred and sighed.

"If I stay like this for one more minute, I'll be here the whole night," she noted drowsily.

"Okay by me," he replied softly, encircling her shoulders with one arm.

"I have to let you up so you can go home."

"You don't have to. I can stay here tonight, so that you're not alone."

With a yawn, she reluctantly sat up. "Although I would love nothing more than for you to stay, I can't let you. I know you slept even less than I did last night. We could both use a good night's sleep in our own beds."

Shrugging apologetically, he pointed out, "I didn't get to tell you earlier, but I'm sorry your bed is in a different bedroom tonight than it was last night, that you had to leave your house behind."

"I think that's a small price to pay for my bed being in the same city," she responded. "Don't you?"

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Do you really even need to ask?"


	6. Chapter 6

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 6

"I'm heading to the airport to pick up David McArthur," Marshall announced as he pulled his jacket from the back of his desk chair and slipped it on, cradling his phone between his shoulder and his ear. "His flight is due to arrive in a half hour."

Mary rolled to a stop at a traffic light and replied, "I'm on my way in. Are you sure I don't need to pick up Jess?"

"No, she's setting up for a dinner party and is going to leave from her client's house to meet us. She'll be here by 11:00."

"Hey, do me a favor and tell McArthur not to mention anything about the price on Jessica's head in her company. We don't need to spook her at this late date."

"No problem," he assured her, stepping into the elevator.

"How is she, anyway? When I spoke with her the other day she sounded like she's getting nervous."

"You could say that. Every day it gets a little worse, in fact. Yesterday I introduced her to running, though, to help her work through some of her stress."

"Really. And how did that go over?" she queried skeptically.

"It went great. We ran about three miles."

"Three _miles_, Marshall? Were you trying to kill her to save her from having to testify?"

"She enjoyed it," he insisted. "And she did remarkably well for the first time out. She kept up the whole way without having to stop even once. Since she rides her bike so much, she's in great shape."

"Yeah, well, take it easy on her from here on out. I'm sure the two of you can think of other ways to relieve her stress," Mary pointed out. "I have to go. I'm about to get on the freeway. Call me if you get held up at the airport."

"Will do."

***There were definite advantages to being a U.S. Marshal. For instance, getting past airport security checkpoints without a travel ticket was impossible for the average person – for a U.S. Marshal, it was a piece of cake. Which was why Marshall Mann was the only person waiting at gate 1, concourse B, of Albuquerque's International Sunport to meet disembarking passengers. His badge was clipped to the outside of his jacket pocket, clearly visible for all to see, making it easy for the U.S. Attorney to spot him.

Approaching him, David McArthur gave him a smile. "You must be the marshal named Marshall."

"That would be me," he responded, holding out his hand to grip the other man's in a firm handshake. "How was your flight?"

"A little bumpy over the Rockies but otherwise fine."

"Do you have any other luggage?"

"No, I travel light," he answered, indicating his carry-on.

"The only way to fly," Marshall nodded, giving him a smile. Turning to lead the way, he added, "The truck is this way."

***"New Mexico isn't what I expected," David noted, looking out of the window. "The scenery is impressive."

"Most people expect nothing but desert," Marshall agreed. "The area is actually quite diverse."

"Have you lived here all of your life?"

"I have. I enjoy the traveling my job requires but it's always nice to come home."

"Albuquerque is quite the change from Harrisburg. How is Rose adjusting to the area?"

"She seems to be adjusting well," Marshall answered. "She's the owner of a catering business now and has really taken to the Southwestern cuisine. Mary and I have been the happy recipients of some of her culinary creations. We never turn down her invitation for a meal."

"Sounds like she's doing well. How is she about testifying? Any reservations?"

Marshall shrugged. "Although she's understandably nervous, she hasn't given any indication that she's changed her mind. The break-in at her house shook her up but she settled into a new place and routine much easier than Mary and I expected. She did say that she isn't looking forward to returning to Harrisburg and being Rose Lawrence again. I think that mostly has to do with the accident, though, about how she feels returning to where her husband and son were killed."

"I'm sure that isn't going to be easy. There are a lot of bad memories for her," David acknowledged. "Mary told me she didn't keep her first name when she relocated and I guess I can understand why she doesn't want to go back to being Rose. But that's the only name I know her by, and the one I'll continue to use. I don't want to take a chance on slipping up and referring to her by her new name when she's on the stand. It's better that I not even know what it is."

"We appreciate that you're willing to go the extra mile to protect her identity," Marshall nodded. "Most witnesses choose to keep their first names so it isn't an issue. That isn't the case here, though."

"She's going to be in enough danger as it is. I certainly don't want to add to it."

Taking note of his rather ominous tone, Marshall frowned and asked, "Were you able to substantiate the claim that the cartel has put out a contract on her?"

"No, but it doesn't really matter. For her safety, we have to operate under the assumption that they did. And I think it's very likely. I can give you the first and last names of six of their victims off the top of my head, and know of five others in addition to those. These bastards have absolutely no conscience. They come from such abject poverty that they'll do anything to remain in this country and live the lifestyle they've created for themselves, while they send money to extended family back in Guatemala, which makes them something of heroes back home and to their employees. Their share-the-wealth policy benefits everyone associated with them and gains their leaders a degree of loyalty you don't often see. Anyone who gets in the way of their goals is an immediate target. They've got eyes and ears all over, from Harrisburg to Philadelphia, where they have their floating distribution centers. We've been chasing them for a long time but their operation involves so many people, it's impossible to pin anything of substance on just one. And without that one, we have no leverage to get at the rest. It's been the most elusive organization I've ever tried to prosecute. But one of the men Rose identified is nearly at the top of the chain of command. He has extended family here in the states and a lot to lose. We feel fairly certain that we'll be able to flip him if he's convicted, with the offer of life versus the needle. That doesn't bode well for our only remaining eyewitness, though. There are a lot of people biting their nails at the outcome of this trial – a lot of people who depend on the cartel and would like to see Rose eliminated, as others have been, so that we're forced to drop the charges."

Marshall swallowed hard. "How much danger is she realistically in, with all precautions put into place?"

"I honestly don't know. Harrisburg isn't the metropolis that Philadelphia or even Pittsburg is. It's basically a small town with a small town feel and mentality. We have a much better chance of getting death sentences handed down upon conviction as a result, but security isn't what it would be in the bigger cities and we don't have the same options for stashing witnesses. I am bringing in marshals and federal agents from other locations to help out, and I've found a place for her to stay that we all feel is sufficiently safe, subject to yours and Mary's approval. Other than that, we're keeping an ear to the ground to try to get a line on anything brewing. There isn't much else that can be done at this point."

"Mary asked that I give you a heads-up on the fact that we haven't mentioned anything about the threat to her. We didn't want to needlessly upset her, particularly after the break-in. As you said, she has enough to face without adding to it."

"I agree with your reasoning and I definitely won't bring it up," David nodded. "You and your partner should know that I'm working overtime at my end to ensure her safety. With her testimony, I'm almost guaranteed a conviction and I don't take that favor lightly. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't pursue this particular case with just any witness. It's been my experience that a successful prosecution in a case like this hinges on someone with a strong moral compass. I knew the first time I met her that Rose had that kind of moral center."

Glancing over at him, Marshall questioned, "Why is that?"

"Unlike most of the witnesses I work with on drug cases who are usually trading testimony for a pass on prosecution themselves, Rose has nothing to gain that can come close to equaling what's she's lost. When she left Harrisburg, it was within hours of watching both her husband and son die, and without the opportunity to bury them first or even say good-bye. Her son died instantly at the accident scene and James never regained consciousness after surgery. He went into cardiac arrest soon after he came out of recovery. I spoke with her for the first time shortly after they arrived at the hospital, and I explained her options. I sat down with her for the second time not even twenty minutes after James died, one on one, prepared for anything. After everything that had happened, I thought she would at least ask for more time to make a decision, or maybe to make arrangements. But she didn't. In fact, she had already made her decision; I didn't have to talk her into anything. She said testifying was the right thing to do and she was packed and on her way to the airport within the hour. She didn't ask for a single thing. It was one of the easiest relocations I've ever done."

Thinking about what she had confided in him about her feelings after arriving, Marshall noted, "It wasn't quite as easy for her as it may have seemed. It never is. It takes time for the shock to wear off and for realization to sink in. Mary and I go through that with most of our witnesses."

"I suppose you do deal with the aftermath in a way we don't see at our end. I have confidence in Rose, though. Unless she's had a drastic personality change since coming here, I believe she's the witness who is going to help me finally bring this cartel down."

"She's still that same person," Marshall agreed quietly. "She isn't going to let you down."

***Mary looked up at the sound of the elevator doors sliding apart and immediately smiled. Getting up to open the security door, she asked, "Hey, how did everything go at work? Any samples you need me to test?"

As she passed through the opening, Jessica held up a white bag. "I managed to snag a couple of things for you. I hope you like cheesecake."

"I adore cheesecake," Mary assured her, taking the bag in both hands with an expression akin to awe. "Does it need to be refrigerated?"

"Unless you're going to eat it now, it does."

"I had a big breakfast so I guess I'll wait a while."

Ducking around the corner to stash the bag in the office refrigerator, she said, "Marshall called from the airport. He and David McArthur are on their way."

"How long do you think the meeting with him will take?"

Mary returned and motioned her toward the conference room. "Probably about an hour, give or take. It depends on the attorney. Some don't like to go over the testimony much, so that it doesn't sound too rehearsed on the stand. Others like to go over every little detail in great length. We've never worked with McArthur before so I don't know anything about his style."

"My employees are finishing setting up for tonight so I don't have to be at work until about 5:00," Jessica informed her. Sitting down, she winced with pain and reached to rub her leg.

"Something wrong?" Mary asked as sat down across from her.

"Not really. Just a little sore."

"That wouldn't have something to do with my partner dragging you out on a three mile run, would it?" she suggested with a smirk.

"He told you about that, huh? I'm what, ten, eleven inches shorter? His legs are nearly twice as long as mine. I swear it takes three of my steps to make two of his. I'm sore in places I didn't even know I had," Jessica admitted.

"To hear it from him, you're ready to take on a marathon. He was impressed that you ran the whole thing without having to stop."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want him to think I was a wimp. Never mind that I thought I was going to die – literally."

Mary smiled and noted, "He chose your name well."

Jessica gave her a puzzled look. "My name?"

"When we were creating your new identity, I suggested the name Amy. Marshall said that sounded too wimpy, and suggested Jessica instead." She frowned as she tried to recall the conversation that seemed as though it had taken place a lifetime ago. "Something was said about it sounding spirited, or maybe it was something about a horse..." Shrugging it off, she added, "Anyway, I think in your case he was right, although I wouldn't want him to know I said that."

With a smile, she replied, "Your secret is safe with me." Stretching out her legs, she winced again, then rubbed her thigh and pointed out dryly, "There are certain advantages to the pain, of course. It's been a good distraction to keep my mind off of other things that I'd rather not think about."

Detecting the hint of truthfulness under the wry humor, Mary gave her a look of sympathy. "Marshall said you were getting pretty nervous. Although that's normal, you really don't need to worry much. You're going to come through the next few days with flying colors."

"And what makes you so sure of that when I feel like I'm a heartbeat away from becoming a complete basket case?" Jessica asked softly.

"Because I've held the hands of a lot of witnesses, some of them strong and some of them actual basket cases. Honestly, I have absolutely no doubts where you're concerned. Whether you realize or not, you're one of the strong ones. You're going to do great."

Shaking her head, Jessica focused on picking at her nails. "It isn't as difficult to be strong here, 2000-odd miles away, where I can look out of the window and see nothing that reminds me of my former life. But what about when I'm in Harrisburg and absolutely everything I see reminds me of it? I don't know if I can be strong then. I'm afraid that when I step off the plane, I'll step back into Rose's shoes at the exact moment she left, with all the feelings and fears as fresh as they were then. I don't know how I'll be able to handle that."

"You're not alone this time, Jess. I'll be there to help you through. Like all of my other witnesses, I'm not just there to protect you; I'm also there for you to hold on to," Mary assured her. Shrugging, she amended grudgingly, "Or, if you insist, I'll let you hold on to Marshall." At her witness' slight smile, she continued, "The point is, we'll be there to help, and we're very good at what we do. There's nothing to worry about. Trust me."

***Mary knew the second she saw Marshall come in through the security doors that he wasn't happy, just by the set of his jaw. And when she glanced at Jessica, she knew from her instantly concerned expression that she had read him as well. She made a mental note to speak to him about that as she got up and opened the conference room door for her partner and the attorney accompanying him.

"David McArthur, this is my partner Mary Shepard," Marshall noted.

Shaking his offered hand, Mary gave him a slight smile. "Nice to meet you in person. Welcome to Albuquerque, David."

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you as well, to finally put a face to the voice," he nodded, returning the smile. Turning his attention to the other occupant of the room, he added, "Hello, Rose. It's good to see you again."

Jessica stood and shook his hand in turn. "It's good to see you, too. I hope you had a pleasant flight."

"I did," he agreed, openly looking her up and down. "The New Mexico air certainly seems to agree with you. You look great."

"Thanks," she replied a bit self-consciously.

Looking from her to the marshals, he asked, "Shall we get started?"

***"I want you to do exactly what you did here," David advised gently, reaching over to place a hand on Jessica's arm. "Take your time with your answers. It isn't a bad thing to let the jury see that it's a struggle for you. Once I finish with my questions, I'll ask you if you want to take a break before the defense begins their cross-examination. If you feel the need, for any reason, don't hesitate to say so. I know how upsetting it is to relive it all. There's no harm in taking a few minutes to catch your breath in between."

Jessica nodded, clearly fighting for control of her emotions as she avoided his eyes. After a moment, she asked shakily, "And what kind of questions will the defense ask me?"

David sat back and explained, "The attorney will try to discredit you, but not blatantly. You're a sympathetic witness who lost a child. Cole isn't going to openly attack you, but he will question in detail everything you said. He will especially focus on your identification of his clients. He'll point out that it all took place in the span of mere seconds and try to get you to doubt what you saw. I'm not going to tell you what to say, but I want you to be prepared for that and give some thought ahead of time to how you'll answer."

"All right," she slowly agreed. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"I've sat in judge's chambers with this attorney every few months for the past seventeen as he's filed motion after motion. One thing he tried very hard to do was keep the attack on your family separate from the drug charges brought against his clients. Fortunately, the judge didn't buy it. Cole will try anything, though, even if he knows up front that the judge is going to shut him down. When big-time criminals anywhere in the state are facing the death penalty, he's first on their list of attorneys to call. He's well known for walking as fine a line as possible without getting his license yanked. Think of him as a wolf in sheep's clothing – he may appear to be sympathetic and even kind, but he will exploit the smallest word you say in order to create a doubt in the jurors' minds. And in a case where everyone knows the death penalty may be an option, jurors usually err on the side of caution. Be especially careful to take your time answering his questions. Don't let him lead you into saying something he can use against you. Think about the wording of your answers before you actually say anything. Use the fact that you're emotionally upset to give yourself time to think. Pausing will actually make the jury even more sympathetic, as they see you struggling. Whatever you do, don't let him bait you into answering in anger. That's always a mistake."

"Okay," she nodded.

"Other than that, keep your answers short, to the point, and just be yourself. Let the jury see you for what you are: a wife and mother whose life was shattered by the horrendously callous acts of the defendants. If you do that, we'll be fine."

"Why don't you go over the entire procedure," Mary suggested, "from the time she arrives with us, to the time she leaves the stand."

"That's a good idea," David agreed. "The three of you will wait in one of the conference rooms, with a couple of federal agents on guard outside the door. I'll also have agents in the courtroom and roaming the grounds. After I've questioned the police officers who responded to the accident scene, I'll send the court officer for you. Mary and Marshall will escort you in and one of them will remain near the witness box while you testify. Afterwards, before the defense begins their cross, I'll show the video taken at the scene to the…"

"Video?" Jessica interrupted, her head snapping up to regard him intently. "What video?"

He gave her a confused look. "The video taken by the police officers when they responded to the call. Don't you remember my telling you about that before you left Harrisburg, when I handed a copy of it to Orin Nash?"

Jessica looked down again, clenching her teeth as Mary and Marshall exchanged looks of dismay across the table. It was something neither had thought to prepare her for, assuming that she already knew about the video and how it would be used.

She finally replied softly, "I don't remember anything about that." Looking up at him with eyes on the verge of tearing from a mixture of anger and pain, she asked, "Are you saying that there's a video showing my husband bleeding, and my son lying dead in the back of our car?"

It was David's turn to avoid her eyes. "The police are required to turn on their video equipment as soon as they arrive on the scene of an accident, or pull someone over for a traffic violation. It's for everyone's protection, the police officers as well as the public."

She swallowed hard and questioned hesitantly, "And you plan on showing this video to the jury?"

"We use what we have," he answered gently. "The video is a key piece of evidence that clearly shows what the defendants are capable of. Our goal is to prevent them from doing the same thing again. We have no choice but to present it at trial."

Resting her elbows on the table, she interlaced her fingers and rested her forehead against them, closing her eyes. When she looked back up at the attorney, her voice was as angry as her eyes. "What you're saying is that you're going to exploit my family's tragedy in order to win your case. It isn't enough that I'm going to sit and tell perfect strangers about the worst day of our lives in graphic detail. You're going to show them the graphic details on a big screen."

"I'm sorry, Rose…" he began.

She held up her hand to silence him as she stood. "This is not what I signed up for!" she declared, then quickly headed for the door.

Not waiting for Mary to react, Marshall scrambled to his feet and said, "I'll go."

When they were gone, David let out a breath and closed his eyes. "Damn! I can't believe she forgot about the video."

"I can," Mary pointed out with mild annoyance, as much at herself for her lack of preparedness as at him. "Would you want to remember something like that if it was your family? Is it so surprising to you that she blocked it out or that it simply didn't register in the first place when you told her about it?"

He admitted quietly, "I guess not. And I suppose I would've reacted the same way when I did found out about it."

"Given the circumstances, I think her reaction was understandable," Mary agreed.

"So now what?"

"She isn't an unreasonable person. My partner will talk to her, and afterwards we'll all sit down and discuss it. She'll come around." Looking at him thoughtfully, she asked, "How necessary is it that you present the video immediately following her testimony? Couldn't it be shown before she comes into the courtroom, say, after the police officers testify, since they'll essentially be describing what's on the video?"

"Have you watched it?"

"No, I haven't," she admitted.

"Well if you do, you'll realize why it won't have the same impact if I show it before Rose testifies. It backs up what she's going to say and it shows her at the accident scene as well, telling the police officer what happened. There won't be a single doubt in anyone's mind that she's told the truth on the stand once they see it."

"Then is it necessary that she physically be in the courtroom when you present it? Couldn't you allow her to take a break and leave after you've questioned her, as you suggested before, and then present it while she's out of the room?"

With a slow nod, he agreed, "I can do that."

"Good. When she comes back in, tell her. It'll help," she assured him.

***Marshall walked onto the balcony outside of their offices when he spotted Jessica standing there, arms crossed over her chest as she looked out at the city.

As soon as she heard the door, she exclaimed angrily, "Go away, Marshall! I want to be alone!"

He stopped where he was and shook his head. "I am so sorry, Jess. If Mary and I had known you weren't aware of the video, we would've discussed it with you beforehand so that you didn't have to find out this way."

"If I had known about it there wouldn't be any need for discussion! I would've made it a condition of my testifying, up front, that it not be used!" she declared.

Taking a couple steps toward her, he noted, "I can only imagine how upsetting hearing about it must be, but you need to look at the situation from David's point of view. He's been trying for a long time to bring the members of the cartel to justice. We're all working for the same thing here, to get these people off of the streets so they can't harm anyone else. It isn't only your family who was affected. Think of the Tuckers and what they lost…"

She whirled to glare at him. "I can't believe you're using that against me!"

"I'm not. I wouldn't do that. You know me better than that," he quickly pointed out. "What I was going to say is that you personally know of three people this cartel is responsible for killing. David told me on the way here from the airport that he can recite the names of six more people off the top of his head, and knew of five others besides. That's just the ones he knows about. He has seen a level of violence and destroyed lives in this case that no one else is even aware of. Is it any wonder that he wants to use whatever means he has at his disposal to put them out of business?"

"And for that reason I should allow him to exploit my innocent child, to victimize him all over again? How does that make him any different from the people who made my son a victim in the first place?" she demanded.

Moving a few steps closer, he replied, "He's trying to make the people responsible pay for what they did – that's the difference."

Jessica shook her head. "I can't let him do it. It isn't worth it!"

"As difficult as it is, you can allow something good to come from your son's death," Marshall reminded her gently, slowly closing the distance between them so that he was standing right beside her. "You told me a long time ago that your goal was to make sure no one else had to go through what you did at the hands of the men you're testifying against, that you owed that to Silas. Allowing the jury to see the video is a way to make that happen."

"That isn't how I want him to be remembered. My son was an incredibly bright, sweet, funny kid who read Far Side at age 5 and built entire worlds with Legos. If they see the video…" She closed her eyes and her voice wavered as she added softly, "You don't know what it was like, how horrifying. They shot him…" She covered her mouth with a hand and closed her eyes as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

He reached for her and held her to him. "I know, Jess. I saw the video," he admitted quietly.

Pulling back, she looked up at him with an expression of both surprise and dismay. "You saw it?"

With a nod, he carefully brushed the tears from her cheek. "I did, and believe me when I tell you that it will make a difference with the jury." Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he pointed out, "In five days, all of this will be behind you and we'll be safely back home. Focusing on that will help you get through the rest."

***"I lived and worked in D.C. for eight years prosecuting federal cases," David explained to Mary as they stood outside of the conference room. "Then my marriage failed and I decided I needed a change of scenery. Now I move to wherever I'm needed for however long I'm needed to make a case. I've been between Philadelphia and Harrisburg for the last three years, chasing this cartel."

"Sounds like difficult work," Mary noted. "Do you enjoy it?"

"It has its ups and downs, like any other job. When we finally bring down a large organization, there's a definite sense of satisfaction…" He paused, mid-sentence, with a puzzled frown.

Taking note of his expression, Mary looked over her shoulder in the direction of his gaze in time to see her witness in the arms of her partner on the other side of the window. A string of curses filled her head, but when she turned back to the attorney, she shrugged matter-of-factly and gave him a half-smile. "Don't worry. My partner does that with all of our witnesses. He's a very touchy-feely kind of guy. I'll bet he even gave you a hug when he met you at the airport."

Looking at her suspiciously, he shook his head. "No, he didn't."

"No? I'm surprised," she noted with feigned astonishment. "That isn't like him at all. He must've had other things on his mind."

"Must have," he agreed slowly, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

Mary looked over her shoulder again as Jessica appeared from around the corner, followed by Marshall. She didn't bother to disguise the irate glare she shot in his direction.

Coming to a stop beside them, Jessica said quietly, "I'm sorry for running out on you like that, but I really needed some air."

"It's all right," David assured her. "I understand."

Wetting her lips, she added, "Marshall has pointed out to me how important the video is to your case. Although I'm still not happy about it, I understand why you want to use it and I won't ask you not to."

"I appreciate that," he acknowledged sincerely. Motioning to his right, he added, "Mary and I were talking and she pointed out that there's really no need for you to be in the courtroom when it's shown. If you'd like, I'll ask the judge to excuse you after I've finished questioning you and present it then."

Jessica nodded. "That would make it a little easier."

"Then that's what we'll do," David agreed, reaching to squeeze her shoulder. "Do you have any other questions about the proceedings or arrangements?"

"No, I don't. I believe I understand everything well enough."

"Well, then, I think we're done here. I would like to invite the three of you to lunch, though, on the government's dime of course." Looking from one to the other, he asked, "Any objections?"

"Free lunch? Count me in," Mary replied readily.

"I'm game," Marshall decided, then looked at Jessica expectantly.

Shaking her head, Jessica said, "I need to get to work. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Are you sure?" David questioned. "Not even a quick bite?"

"Thanks, but no. Maybe another time," Jessica suggested. Glancing at Mary, she asked, "Where would I find your restroom?"

"It's down the hall," she answered, gesturing in the general direction.

When she had disappeared from view, Mary turned to David and smiled. "Would you excuse us for a minute? I need to discuss something with my partner concerning another case."

"Sure," he agreed. "In fact, I need to freshen up myself."

As he headed in the direction Jessica had gone, Mary took Marshall by the arm, gripping it tighter than necessary as she steered him to Stan's office and then closed the door. Facing him, she asked indignantly, "What the hell, Marshall? Are you _trying_ to get us both fired?"

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"David saw you with Jessica, while you were 'comforting' her," she pointed out sarcastically. "He's not an idiot. I'm sure he's figured out that something is going on between you two."

"She was upset," he retorted, holding out his hands. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to talk to her while keeping a respectable distance between her body and yours. Don't you think an arm around the shoulders would've sufficed under the circumstances?"

"You don't know how hard this is for her," he insisted intently. "She's barely eating or sleeping, Mare. And when she's at the end of her rope and ready to walk away from it all, I'm going to be there for her, no matter whose suspicions are aroused."

Shaking her head, Mary countered, "You're lucky Stan is out of the office. If he had seen you, I wouldn't be the one having this conversation with you. And if you pull a stunt like that again, I may not be able to explain your way out of it."

Giving her a curious look, he queried, "How did you explain it?"

"I told David you did that with all our witnesses, that you were a hands-on kind of guy," she answered with annoyance. "And FYI, you owe him a hug before he leaves."

His eyebrows shot up. "A hug?"

"An arms-around-the-body hug. Got it?"

Deciding it was best not to argue or even question her command, he reluctantly responded, "Got it."

"And be more discreet in the future. Arousing suspicion is what you should be actively avoiding at the moment."

"Okay," he nodded contritely. Looking over his shoulder to confirm that neither of the other two had returned, he added, "Look, I don't want Jess to leave alone. I think she needs someone with her right now."

"I was thinking the same thing myself," Mary admitted. "Why don't you pretend to get a phone call and then make something up about having to meet another witness who's experiencing some sort of crisis? I'll go to lunch with David and show him some of the sights, then you can call me later and we'll meet up so we can take him back to the airport together."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed. "And thanks, for covering my ass with David. I owe you one."

Reaching to open the door, she assured him, "Oh, and it's going to cost you."

***David took Mary's hand in his and smiled. "Thanks for playing tour guide. I have a new respect for this part of the country."

"Anytime," she returned. "And thank you for lunch. I enjoyed it as well as the company."

Turning toward Marshall, David held out his hand to him as well. "I appreciate the escort, both to and from the airport. You saved me quite a bit in cab fare today."

Catching the prompting look Mary gave him, he ignored the offered hand and stepped forward to briefly embrace the man, clapping him on the back. "It was my pleasure. And it was good to meet you."

Caught off guard, the other man could only stare in surprise for a moment. "Uh, yeah, good to meet you, too," he finally responded cautiously.

"Have a safe trip back," Mary encouraged, smiling with delight at the scene she had just witnessed.

"I will," David nodded. Shaking off the awkward moment, he grew a bit more serious as he advised, "Feel free to call me any time, day or night, with questions or concerns. And if you run into any problems between now and when you arrive on Monday, I need to be the first to know."

"You will be," Marshall replied. "And you do the same with us."

"All right. We'll have everything ready on our end and I'll be there to meet you at the Lancaster airport, since you'll need to avoid the one in Harrisburg. Until then, take good care of our girl."

"You know we will," Mary assured him.


	7. Chapter 7

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 7

After waiting for all other passengers to disembark, Marshall led the way off the plane, with Jessica between them and Mary following, ever alert to anything that appeared out of the ordinary. They had been zigzagging across the country all day and had finally arrived at the last airport of the day, all three tired and on edge. When they stepped into the terminal, the marshals were grateful to find it to be more or less deserted – only one of the advantages of flying into a relatively small airport late in the day.

"We need to make a stop," Mary told her partner when they neared a public restroom. Pulling her suitcase to the wall beside him, she addressed Jessica. "I'll check it out and be right back."

Within seconds, she returned to motion Jessica inside. Leaving her own suitcase with Marshall, Jessica complied.

Moments later, when Mary emerged from one of the stalls, she found Jessica washing her hands.

"David should be waiting downstairs to meet us," Mary informed her as she began washing up as well. "He said it's less than an hour's drive to Harrisburg from here."

"Yeah, it isn't even fifty miles," Jessica agreed. Glancing at Mary's reflection in the mirror, she noted, "Before we go out, I'd like to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"It's about James' family," she began. "I take it they will have been informed about the trial date."

"It is a matter of public record," Mary nodded.

"And they will be allowed to attend if they choose."

"Family members usually do," she confirmed.

Taking a deep breath, then letting it out, Jessica asked, "And will they be allowed to talk with me? Before or after I testify?"

Mary studied her curiously for a moment. "Do you want to talk with them?"

With a shrug, she replied, "I sort of feel obligated. I mean, they were my family and they always treated me as such. I think it would hurt them, particularly James' parents, if I didn't."

"In that case, a brief visit could be arranged as long as it's determined to be safe. The meeting would have to be supervised so that either Marshall or I could in effect clamp a hand over your mouth if you started to let slip something that would give away your new identity or location," Mary pointed out.

"I can understand that."

"Also, it would have to take place at the court building. No one would be allowed to meet with you or know where we're staying, and we wouldn't even feel comfortable arranging a meeting at a neutral location. The danger would be too great. Our goal is to get you between the court building, our quarters, and then back to the airport as quickly and uneventfully as possible."

"All right. Once we get there and you check things out, you can let me know if you think it will work."

***"Wow! This place is incredible!" Mary noted, slowly turning around to take in their surroundings.

"Since the remodel, it's one of the nicest apartment complexes in Harrisburg. It's also the second tallest building," David pointed out, placing the last piece of luggage with the rest. "I wasn't happy with any of the hotels, mostly because of the parking situation. An attached garage was one of my requirements, for safety reasons. I had my doubts that we could get in here, but with the recession they had several of the larger apartments available and agreed to rent them to us short-term. We have the one next door as well. I thought it would be better to have everyone on-site rather than coming and going. The rest of this wing is devoted to corporate suites, which are almost all empty at the moment, so there shouldn't be much traffic otherwise."

Marshall returned from doing a quick check of all rooms and announced, "All clear."

"Is the bathroom down the hallway?" Jessica asked.

"Yes, there are two, in fact, one in the master bedroom," he replied.

After she had excused herself, Marshall turned to David. "This place is only three blocks from the federal court building, right?"

"Yes. I left you a map on the table with proposed routes marked, along with cell numbers for several of the other agents, and another set of keys to the front door. Your escort should arrive at about 10:15 in the morning. Orin Nash, whom you met, is coordinating transportation. Besides yours, there will be three other vehicles. Unfortunately, there will be no air ops, the reason given that it isn't practical for downtown Harrisburg. I think it's more likely a matter of budget cuts, personally. But we have added extra security at the court building." Glancing down the hallway to make sure Jessica was still out of sight, he lowered his voice and quickly added, "Yesterday the police busted a meth house in Philadelphia and one of the men they arrested traded some information to try to avoid being sent up on a third strike. He said there was a $500,000 contract out on a woman who was due to testify in Harrisburg this week. He didn't have a name but said he saw a photo that was being circulated and gave a pretty fair description of Rose. We've alerted the police here and have been assured of their full cooperation. We're taking every possible precaution."

"Geez," Mary muttered. "These people aren't going to go down easy, are they?"

"No, they aren't, but I'm going to make damn sure they go down all the same," he stated confidently. When he heard Jessica approaching, he turned to give her a smile. "I have a couple of witnesses to call before you in the morning so I won't need you before 10:30 at the earliest. If there's anything you need between now and then, give Orin a call and he'll take care of you. We all have a big day ahead of us tomorrow so I'm going to go and let you get some sleep. I'll see you in court in the morning."

"I'll be ready," Jessica assured him.

***Marshall strolled into the kitchen of their spacious accommodations to find Jessica selecting one of a dozen bottles of water from the refrigerator that was otherwise empty. Taking advantage of their first moment alone all day, he waited until she had taken a drink, then pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. "Are you doing okay?"

She nodded as she rested her cheek against his chest. "I'm okay. Just tired."

"I noticed Mary put her stuff in the master bedroom before she jumped in the shower."

"She let me choose first. I liked the other room better. The bed is more like mine at home. I offered to take the sofa bed but she insisted that I had to be in one of the bedrooms."

With a shrug, he asked hesitantly, "Do you want me to sleep in there with you, to keep you company? If not, I'm fine with the sofa bed. It's completely up to you."

"Don't you think Mary might have something to say on that subject?" she queried lightly.

Pulling back so that he could see her face, he gave her a smile. "Definitely. But that's beside the point. The decision is yours to make. I'll handle Mary, whatever you decide."

"Aren't we feeling brave tonight?" she noted with amusement. Then, growing a bit more serious, she added, "At least one of us should be well-rested tomorrow, and since you're the one who's going to be carrying the gun, I'd feel better if that was you. I don't know how well I'm going to sleep. I'm afraid I'd only disturb you."

"Are you sure that's what you really want and that you aren't just afraid of Mary?" he questioned with a smile.

"I'm absolutely afraid of Mary," she assured him. "But as you said, that's beside the point. If I had my way I'd take the sofa bed so that if I wake up in the middle of the night and need to roam around, I won't wake anyone."

"You won't wake me if you want to roam around. I'd feel better if you would, though. I know you have a lot on your mind and I want to help if I can, even if it's only to lend an ear or hold your hand."

Jessica sighed and settled against his chest again. "Having you here is more help than you know. I can't ask for anything else."

"All right, all right, break it up you two," Mary advised with mock sternness as she came around the corner in slippers and pajamas. "It's after midnight; time for bed."

Marshall took Jessica's hand and pulled her along with him. "Come on. I'll tuck you in."

"That had better be all you do. And if you're not back out here in one minute, I'm coming in after you," Mary called to him as they disappeared down the hallway.

***When Mary reluctantly opened her eyes, for a split second she had that disconcerting feeling that always accompanied waking up in unfamiliar surroundings and not knowing where you are. When realization had dispelled the feeling, she folded the covers aside and got out of bed. The glow from the light in the hallway coming under the door guided her way across the dark room. Opening it, she squinted at the brightness and headed toward the kitchen, mentally kicking herself for not putting a water bottle beside her bed for the inevitable cotton-mouth that always came after hours of air travel. She was almost at the end of the hallway when she stopped short and frowned. Turning, she took a few steps and peered through the open door of the other bedroom – only to find it empty. Continuing on, she made her way around the corner and caught sight of her witness across the living room, perched on a barstool in front of the panoramic windows.

Glancing at her partner, sound asleep on the folded out sofa, she came to a stop beside her and whispered, "Hey, what are you doing up?"

Jessica shrugged and whispered in return, "I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep."

Mary reached out to brush her hair from her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

With a sigh, the other woman replied, "I don't think I can answer that question right now. Maybe you could ask me again when we're back on a plane headed south."

"Fair enough," Mary decided, leaning back against the windows. "Would it help to talk?"

"Probably not. It's just nerves. A few more hours and I'll be fine."

When Mary heard Marshall stirring, she looked over to find him sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Knowing that he normally slept like the dead, she was slightly surprised to see him awake.

"I thought I heard voices," he said as he got up and made his way to them. Instantly surmising the situation, he wrapped his arms around Jessica's midsection from behind. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head and tucked one hand under his. "But neither of you need to stay up with me. I'll go back to bed in a few minutes."

Marshall gave Mary a slight nod, signaling to her that he would take over – it certainly wasn't the first time they had walked the floor or sat up with a witness the night before a difficult court appearance.

Mary straightened and put a hand on Jessica's shoulder. "Try to get some more sleep and don't worry so much. As you said, only a few more hours and it will all be over."

As she continued to the kitchen for the much needed water, and then headed back to bed, Marshall rubbed Jessica's arms. "You must be freezing." Turning her around on the stool, he took her by the hand. "Come on; crawl under the covers and we'll talk until you're ready to go back to sleep."

With a nod, she willingly complied, snuggling against his warm body when they were settled.

"Just think: Tomorrow at this time, it will almost be time to get up so we can drive back to the airport in Lancaster," he pointed out.

"If only real life had a fast-forward button when you really needed it," she noted dryly.

"Now where would the fun be in that? Going through the tough times makes the good ones so much better." With one arm under his head, he trailed the fingers of his other hand over her shoulder, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. After a few seconds, he continued in a hushed voice, "Every year, my family rents a houseboat on Lake Powell for two weeks. Everyone comes and goes as they can, some for only a day or two, some for a week or longer. There are canyons and inlets to explore, fishing, water skiing, swimming, and hiking. It's an absolutely incredible place to visit. That part of Utah and Arizona is known as red-rock country. It's such a beautiful contrast to the azure blue water. From the lake, you can access Rainbow Bridge, the largest natural bridge in the world at 290 feet tall and 270 feet across. The Navajo consider it to be sacred, representing deities responsible for the creation of clouds, rainbows, and rain." Lifting his head slightly so that he could see her face, he saw her blinking sleepily. Lying back, he added even more quietly, "I'd like to take you there, to show you some of my favorite places on the lake."

"Really?" she queried softly. "I would be allowed to leave Albuquerque?"

"I could arrange it," he assured her, "if you'd like to go."

"I would love to. It sounds beautiful."

He turned his head to put his cheek against her soft hair. "Then I'll take you there this summer. When we get home, I'll show you some photos and we'll make plans." Gently squeezing her shoulder, he whispered, "Just close your eyes and think about all the things we're going to do. And when you fall asleep, I promise you'll have good dreams."

***Mary groped for her chiming Blackberry without opening her eyes. She didn't need to actually look at it in order to silence its annoying alarm. Once peace had been restored, she sighed and stretched languidly, thinking about the day ahead. With two hours to go before their escort arrived and they left for the courthouse, there were things to be done – coffee and breakfast were at the top of the list.

After a visit to the bathroom, she headed for the kitchen. She wasn't exactly surprised to find Jessica's bed still empty when she passed. Before entering the kitchen, she glanced over at the sofa to see her nestled against Marshall, both of them sleeping peacefully. Coffee and a coffee maker had been left in plain view on the kitchen counter, and within a couple of minutes she had started a pot brewing.

Turning her attention to the living room, the sight beyond the windows caught her eye. She moved to stand in front them and sucked in an awed breath. It had been dark when they arrived the previous evening, and although the night lights had been beautiful from their twenty-second story advantage, the daytime view was even more breathtaking. Crowded city blocks, suburbs, green hills in the distance, and the Susquehanna River, with City Island in the center, stretched out below her. The streets were beginning to stir to life and she watched until the aroma of hazelnut coffee had filled the room. She was about to go for a cup when she heard a soft creak and turned to see Marshall ease out of bed, then carefully pull the blanket up over Jessica's shoulders. She was struck once again by the look on his face as he watched Jessica sleep. His eyes were still soft and warm when he turned his attention to Mary and for just a moment she felt the smallest twinge…

Marshall followed as she motioned him to the kitchen and led the way. Taking two cups out of the cabinet, she handed one to him and poured a cup of coffee for herself.

"How long did it take Jess to fall back asleep last night?" she queried, holding the steaming cup between her palms.

"Not long. We talked for only a few minutes before she was out. I think she just needed a little company, despite her assurances to the contrary," he answered, pouring a cup for himself.

"Sorry we woke you. I probably could've talked her back into to bed within a few minutes as well. Of course, it wouldn't have been in quite the same way that you talked her into bed. And it certainly wouldn't have been the same bed."

He rolled his eyes and ignored her innuendo. "I think we should let her sleep as long as possible. The more rest she gets, the better."

"I agree. So what are we going to do about breakfast? I saw a little place downstairs last night that looked promising."

"David said to call Orin if we needed anything. His number is on the table."

"Do you have any idea what Jess would want?" she asked, returning to top off her coffee.

"Something light, most likely, but I don't know for sure. You should wait and ask her when she wakes up." Setting his cup on the counter, he added, "I'm going to take a shower. If you order before I'm finished, I'll take a couple of eggs over easy with toast and juice."

"Don't use all the hot water," she admonished as he left.

***Mary was in the process of scanning the list of names and phone numbers David had left for them when she heard her cell phone chime from the bedside table where she had left it. She hurried to the bedroom to pick it up and glanced at the read-out. Not recognizing the number, she answered simply, "Hello."

"Mary? This is Orin Nash. How are you this morning?"

"Wonderful," she replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I've always been a sucker for a guy who could read my mind."

"Read your mind?" he queried curiously.

"I was just looking for your phone number."

"Oh, well … great minds, you know. I was wondering if anyone wanted me to make a breakfast run."

Mary put a hand to her chest. "Be still my heart! You do read minds."

With a deep chuckle, he responded, "Maybe it's our stomachs that think alike."

"Maybe," she agreed. "When are you going?"

"Probably in about twenty or thirty minutes. How's our witness this morning? Did she have a good night?"

"It could've been better but also could've been worse. She's still sleeping at the moment."

"Why don't you give me a call when she wakes up and let me know then what everyone wants? I'm going to jump in the shower and get dressed, then hang out until I hear from you."

"Sounds good."

When Mary returned for her abandoned coffee, she found Jessica sitting up in bed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Hey, you're awake. Would you like some coffee?" Mary offered.

"No, thanks. I'm not a coffee drinker," Jessica answered.

Retrieving her cup, she slumped into an armchair. "How did you sleep? After coming in here, I mean."

"I slept well. The sofa bed is really comfortable," Jessica nodded. "Not like the one my grandparents had with the metal bar that dug into your back."

"Everything about this place is first class. David is my kind of guy. Not having made the arrangements ourselves, I was concerned that we might get stuck in a crappy hotel with crappy adjoining rooms," Mary noted. Regarding her thoughtfully, she added, "I was kind of afraid you might still be up when I came in here this morning. You seemed pretty wide awake when I found you."

Jessica stood and began straightening the covers and removing pillows from the bed. "Marshall and I talked for a little while and I was able to go back to sleep."

"He does tend to have that affect on people," Mary pointed out dryly. When her witness didn't so much as crack a smile, she asked, "What would you like for breakfast? Orin Nash called and is going to make a food run for us."

With a shrug, she replied, "I don't think I can handle much of anything. Maybe some fruit and a little tomato juice, if that's possible."

"I'll write down our order and have Marshall call him with it in a few minutes." Getting up and stretching, she added, "I'm going to go start getting ready."

***When Mary heard the key turn in the lock of the front door, she looked up from the map spread on the bar in front of her and leaned over to make sure that it was her partner entering. Upon seeing him step in, juggling a box with one hand as he tried to turn the deadbolt with the other, she got up to help.

"It's a good thing I went with Orin," Marshall declared as she took the box from him. "He never would've been able to carry everything by himself."

"If you had taken even one minute longer, I would've come looking for you. I'm about to starve to death." Glancing up at him, she did a double take and frowned. "What's wrong?"

He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the living room.

"Jess is in the shower," Mary informed him, keeping a wary eye on him as she set the box down and began unpacking it.

Marshall took a seat at the bar and reported, "David called Orin a few minutes ago and told him to change the route we were going to take to the court building. He was on a break so he couldn't elaborate, but Orin seemed concerned."

Mary paused in sorting through the containers of food and asked, "Does he think we might be looking at an ambush attempt?"

With a worried sigh, he answered, "He doesn't know."

Continuing with her task, she noted, "Well, there's no point in borrowing trouble. We'll deal with whatever we have to." As they heard a door open down the hallway, she quickly added, "And for Christ's sake, put on a happy face before you spook my witness."

***"Do you play poker?" Mary questioned from across the bar before taking the last bite of her breakfast.

Jessica shook her head and set her juice down. "No. Why?"

"We need something to do to kill the time until they call you to the stand." Eyeing her, she said helpfully, "I could teach you. How much money do you have with you?"

"Ignore her," Marshall advised, giving his partner a disapproving look. "And _never_ play cards with her. She cheats."

"I do not," Mary insisted. Shrugging, she explained, "I just don't always understand the rules the same way as everyone else."

"If only that statement applied to nothing but cards where you're concerned," Marshall pointed out.

"I refuse to see that as a flaw," Mary stated resolutely. "I think…"

It wasn't so much the sudden knock on the door that interrupted her words; it was her mouth gaping open when Marshall instantly drew his gun and took a defensive stance.

Shaking her head, she tried to keep her tone light for the sake of her witness, who sat frozen and wide-eyed. "Relax, Rambo. It's 10:00. I'm sure it's probably our escort."

Getting up, she paused with her ear near the door. "Yeah?"

"It's Orin," responded a voice from the other side.

Throwing an I-told-you-so look over her shoulder as Marshall holstered his weapon, she unlocked and opened the door.

Stepping inside, their visitor gave them a tense smile. "Are you all about ready to leave?"

Nodding, Mary replied, "We are."

"I'll send everyone to their positions, then. Ten minutes okay?"

With a glance at the others to check first for dissent, Mary answered, "Ten minutes will be perfect."

"I'll be back then," he agreed.

When he had gone, Jessica slid off the bar stool and said in a shaky voice, "I'll go brush my teeth and get my jacket."

As soon as the latch on the bathroom door clicked into place, Mary grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him to the back of the kitchen, then whirled to face him. "What the hell, Marshall? Have you completely lost your mind?"

He clenched his teeth and shook his head. But before he could actually respond, she continued intently, "I know you're nervous and I understand why; I'm nervous, too. But the last thing Jess needs right now is for you to overreact. She's very much in tune to you. She notices every facial expression and even the slightest sign of tension. She needs to be calm now, and that means _you_ need to be calm. _Drawing your gun at a knock on the door is not helping the situation_! I haven't said word one about the relationship between you two mostly because I don't want to upset her. But if it's going to affect you like this, causing you to do asinine things, I'll say plenty. I won't allow your idiotic actions to jeopardize my witness' well-being." At the sound of the bathroom door opening, she took a step closer, so that she was eye to eye with him and hissed, "Now pull yourself together and do your damn job. Otherwise, you can wait here and I'll get someone else to watch our backs."

As she stalked away from him, he huffed out a breath and shook his head. But with only a few minutes remaining before their escort returned, there wasn't time to give vent to his indignation at having his very competency challenged. Taking a couple of calming breaths, he ventured out of the kitchen. Seeing that the bathroom at the end of the hall was unoccupied, he headed for it in order to brush his own teeth. But it wasn't until the door closed behind him and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that he realized it wasn't Mary he was angry with after all.

When he emerged moments later, he found both Jessica and Mary standing in the living room waiting. He could feel Mary's eyes practically boring a hole through him, watching intensely. Choosing to focus on Jessica instead, he gave her a smile. "You look nice," he noted, referring to the completed suit she wore.

Her eyes were no less intense than Mary's as she looked at him for a few seconds before finally smiling slightly in return and saying, "Thanks."

From behind her, Mary gave Marshall an almost imperceptible nod of approval when his eyes met hers. Then, as if on cue, each took a relieved breath and let it out – the day ahead was going to be too long for them to be at odds with each other.

***"The SUV will be waiting as soon as we exit the elevator," Orin explained as he and another agent walked with them down the hallway, deserted except for a lone cleaning cart. "Two of the escort vehicles will be there as well, and we'll pick up one other at the parking garage exit."

"Did anyone check the route we're taking?" Marshall asked as they neared the elevator.

"Yes, several times in fact," Orin replied. "Everything looks clear."

"David mentioned that it's only three blocks to the court building," Mary noted.

"It is," Orin agreed as they entered the elevator car. "But we're not taking the most direct route. We'll still be there in under seven minutes, though."

Marshall glanced at Jessica, sandwiched between him and Mary as they descended the rest of the way in silence. He could practically feel the tension radiating from her body. With the other agents standing in front of them, he surreptitiously reached up and entwined his fingers with hers. When she looked up at him, he gently squeezed her hand and did his best to give her a smile that was reassuring. Facing forward again, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as she clutched his hand tightly, right up until the moment the elevator doors opened and they all exited.

***From her vantage point, Mary could see Jessica nervously twisting the tissue she held in her hands, hidden from the sight of the jury and approaching attorney by the front of the witness box.

David's eyes and voice were kind as he stood in front of her and said, "Please state your name for the record."

"Rose Lawrence," she replied in a voice that was soft, even with the microphone's projection.

"And how were you related to James Lawrence?"

"He was my husband."

"And Silas was your son?" he prompted gently.

Jessica answered shakily, "Yes, he was."

"How long were you and James married?"

"Sixteen years."

"And how long did you live in Harrisburg?"

"James and I were both born here and lived here all of our lives."

David took a few steps toward her and continued in a sympathetic tone, "I'd like to ask you about the events that happened seventeen months ago. What led up to you and your family being in your vehicle at approximately 1:17 PM?"

"We were going to my in-law's home on Delaware Street."

"Is this something you did on a routine basis?"

"Yes, almost every Sunday afternoon. My husband's brothers and their families met there as well and we would all have dinner with my in-laws."

"Can you tell us what happened on the day in question?"

She took a deep breath, and explained somewhat haltingly, "We left our house a little after 1:00 and were on 28th Street, driving south to Derry. James was driving, I was in the front passenger seat, and Silas was sitting in the back seat behind James. We were talking about a school play Silas was going to be in and then he asked me if I had brought him anything to drink. I reached for my bag on the floor to get something for him and I knocked it over. His juice box and several other things fell out. When I bent over to pick it all up, I heard something that sounded like an explosion. Glass sprayed everywhere and the car immediately started to swerve. I sat up and saw James holding the side of his neck." She wet her lips and took a shaky breath before continuing, "There was blood pouring out. I thought it was from the glass at first. I was already reaching for the steering wheel to keep us from swerving into traffic when I saw the car driving right beside us. There were two men inside. When the one on the passenger side saw me sit up, he looked surprised and raised a gun and pointed it at me. So I turned the steering wheel to the right, pretty hard, and our car jumped the curb. We hit a light pole right after that."

As she began biting her lip, David took another step toward her and asked quietly, "Do you see the two men from the car here in the courtroom?"

Jessica nodded. "Yes. They're both sitting at the defense table."

Addressing the judge, David announced, "Let the record show that the witness identified the defendants."

"So noted," the judge agreed.

Turning back to her, David said, "I know this is difficult, but can you tell us what happened next?"

Without looking at him, she replied even more softly, "The first thing I did was try to get to Silas. I unbuckled my seat belt and turned around." She swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice even as a tear slid down her cheek. "But he had been shot, and he was already gone. There was nothing I could do."

While she dabbed at her eyes with the mangled tissue, David encouraged gently, "Just take your time, Rose."

She took a couple of deep breaths, and finally continued, "I grabbed a towel we kept in the car and tried to help James. He was unconscious and bleeding from his neck and shoulder. All I could do was try to keep the blood from gushing out. I'm not sure how long it was, but a police officer showed up and asked if we needed help, and I told him we did. When he looked in the back seat, though, he became very upset and returned to his car. His partner, Sergeant Harlan, came to the driver's side door and told me help was on the way. He was very kind and stayed with us until the ambulance came, then followed us to the hospital. They took James into surgery immediately. While he was in surgery, Sergeant Harlan received a phone call. He then told me that a U.S. Attorney wanted to speak with me."

"For the record, that attorney was me," David interjected. "When I spoke with you, Rose, I asked you about James' work as a security guard at Harrisburg International Airport, correct?"

"Yes."

"And do you remember what you said to me when I asked what he did there?"

The defense attorney immediately stood. "Objection, Your Honor. Anything this witness has to say about what her husband did while at his place of employment is hearsay. She didn't go to work with him and wasn't a witness to any activities that took place there."

"She can testify to the things her husband told her and events that happened in her own home," David countered.

"Since her husband is dead, there's no one to corroborate what he told her," the defense attorney argued.

"The jury can decide for themselves whether or not she's credible," David pointed out.

"Yes, they can," the judge decided. "I'm going to allow it. Objection overruled."

David returned his attention to Jessica. "Please tell us what you said."

"I asked if you were referring to the drugs."

"And what caused you to mention drugs?"

"Six days before that, I had found a large sum of cash in James' pocket while I was doing laundry. When I asked where it came from, he finally admitted that he had been passing marked bags containing drugs through check points at the airport for some men who had approached him about four months before."

"What did you do when you found out about his involvement in these activities?"

"I started packing. I was afraid for my son and angry at James for getting involved in something so dangerous."

"Did you leave then?"

She lowered her head and answered sadly, "No. James asked me to stay and promised he would stop what he was doing. I tried to talk him into going to the authorities but he wouldn't. He said that if I gave him time, he would talk to the men he had been dealing with and tell them he wanted out. I told him I would give him one week and if he hadn't gotten out by then, I would go to the authorities myself."

"To your knowledge, did he do as he had promised?"

"He told me the Friday before the accident that he had. He said he talked with the men and they were letting him out."

"Did you believe him?"

"Yes, I did. I would've left otherwise, and then reported everything to the police as I had said. James knew I was serious about doing that. When he told me he had gotten out, I knew he wasn't lying. He wouldn't have risked it."

"Can you please tell the jury what happened after you and I spoke?"

"I went with you and Officer Harlan to the police station to view a line-up. I was able to pick both of the men sitting at the defense table out of the two groups of men I saw there."

"And you returned to the hospital afterwards?"

"Yes." Her voice grew shaky again as she added, "James came out of surgery and I was allowed to stay in a room with him. But he never woke up. His heart stopped Monday night and he died."

As she wiped her eyes again, he asked kindly, "Can you tell us what you did after that?"

"I spoke with you briefly and then I was taken to my house by a U.S. Marshal. I packed a few things, and got on a plane that took me to a new location."

"Is this the first time you've been back to Harrisburg since the accident?"

"Yes."

"And after you've given your testimony, will you remain here?"

"No, I won't. I've had to leave everyone and everything I've known behind."

"Why is that?"

Glancing in the direction of the defense table, she replied, "Because I'm afraid the men I'm testifying against will find me and kill me if I stay."

"Objection, Your Honor!" defense counsel declared. "My clients have been convicted of absolutely nothing! The statement by the witness is ungrounded in fact and extremely prejudicial!"

"The witness simply stated her perceived reasons for leaving the area. And after having a gun pointed at her by one of the defendants, I think her perception and fear is completely understandable," David pointed out with annoyance.

"Your Honor!" the defense attorney sputtered.

"All right, simmer down, both of you," the judge advised. "The objection is overruled. The witness made no accusation. She only stated a personal perception. You can address the issue in your cross-examination, Mr. Cole."

As the defense attorney glared at him, David took a step toward Jessica. "So after having already lost your child and your husband, you've now lost all of your relatives, friends, your home, your job, and everything familiar to you by agreeing to testify. Why do it? What could be worth losing so much?"

Jessica looked at him in slight surprise at the unexpected question – it wasn't something he had asked when reviewing her testimony. But without a second of hesitation, she answered quietly, "I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. The people responsible for the deaths of my son and my husband shouldn't be allowed to harm anyone else. They took my life from me when they took the lives of my family. I owe it to my child and husband to do my part in making sure that no one else's life is lost at their hands."

David nodded his approval at her answer and said with genuine appreciation, "Thank you, Rose. I know how difficult this was for you and I want to commend you for your courage." Turning to face the judge, he continued, "Your Honor, at this time I'd like to submit into evidence prosecution's item three, a video taken at the crime scene."

The attorney for defense immediately stood. "And I'd like to renew my objection, for the record. This video has absolutely no probative value and is extremely prejudicial against my clients, although they appear nowhere on it. The video's graphic nature is meant only to shock and inflame the jury."

"The video confirms the truthfulness of this witness' testimony. It goes to credibility."

"As I stated in response to your motion to have it excluded, Mr. Cole, the video does indeed have value and will be allowed into evidence," the judge stated. "You may proceed, Mr. McArthur."

"Your Honor, before I submit it to the jury for viewing, I'd like to ask that the witness be excused in order to spare her the pain of…"

"Sidebar, Your Honor!" the defense attorney interrupted loudly.

After the judge had motioned both attorneys forward, he covered his microphone with a hand and asked, "What is it now, Mr. Cole?"

"The prosecutor has no business giving his personal opinion as to the effect of the video. He's grandstanding for the jury, setting them up to be swayed before they even view it. On those grounds alone, it should be excluded from evidence."

"I'm not trying to unduly influence the jury, Your Honor," David insisted quietly. "My witness was reluctant to even allow this viewing in light of the subject matter. She asked that she be allowed to leave the courtroom before it's shown. I simply want the jury to know why I'm asking for her to be excused."

Taking a deep breath, the judge let it out thoughtfully. "I'm not going to exclude it, but you will limit your comments regarding it, Mr. McArthur. Present it to the jury and let them decide for themselves what to make of it."

"That's completely unfair, Judge," the defense counselor pointed out. "You can't expect them ignore what they've already heard. If they view the video now, the damage to my clients will be irreparable."

"Give it up, Mr. Cole. We addressed these issues in one of your many pretrial motions. The video is in – deal with it. And if I hear one more objection from you on the subject, I swear I'll hold you in contempt of court."

While the other attorney turned sullen, David asked, "Will you allow the witness to be excused, Your Honor? To require her to sit here while the video is shown would be extremely cruel."

"Agreed," the judge nodded. "Now step back, both of you." Once they had complied, he removed his hand from the microphone and announced, "The witness will be excused from the courtroom until the aforementioned video has been viewed by the jury."

A look of relief crossed Jessica's face as she quickly stood up. From his spot in the galley, Marshall stood as well, surveying the other spectators as Mary led the way from the room. Once she and Jessica had passed him, he fell into step behind them. Orin, who was standing by the door, held it open for them and then followed them out.

The marshals escorted Jessica back to a near-by conference room where they had waited earlier, before she had been called to the stand. Once they were all inside, Mary turned to Orin.

"Could I have a word with you outside?" she asked.

"Sure," he agreed amiably.

Mary turned to look over her shoulder while walking out, catching Marshall's eye before leaving them alone.

As soon as the door had closed, Marshall put his arm across Jessica's shoulders. "Hey."

Without a word she turned to face him, her forehead bumping against his chest. As his arms encircled her, he could feel her trembling. He hugged her tightly and reminded her softly, "It's all right, Jess. You're almost done. You just have to hang in there for a few more questions. Then it will all be over."

***David sat slumped in a chair next to the table in the small conference room with his tie loosened. "I have to tell you, there was hardly a dry eye in the room after the video was shown. When I suggested that it might be appropriate to break for lunch right after it was over, despite the fact that it was earlier than normal, even the defense didn't object. Cole knew that if he started his cross-exam with that still fresh in the jurors' minds, they'd vote to fry his clients on the spot. Added to your testimony, the video was a devastating blow for them, which is why he objected so strenuously to its being shown. It will take nothing short of a miracle to keep a needle out of the defendants' arms now."

"I suppose I should be glad," Jessica noted quietly, trying to rub some of the tension out of her shoulder. "Given what it took to get to that point, though, I can't seem to share your satisfaction."

He looked up in mild surprise at the softly delivered but pointed remark. Shaking his head, he acknowledged contritely, "I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to sound as though I was … gloating, at your expense. It's just that I've been working for so long to bring these people down, I can't help but feel a small sense of accomplishment at finally seeing a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. I do understand how difficult this was for you, though," he assured her. "And I want you to know that you did really, really well. If you answer the defense's questions with the same care you answered mine, I don't see how we can lose."

"What time does court resume?" Mary questioned as she got up to throw away both her empty sandwich wrapper and David's.

"In about an hour," David answered after glancing at his wristwatch. When Mary had taken her seat again, he leaned his arms on the table. "James' family approached me right after we adjourned. They want to know if they can see you, Rose. I told them to meet me outside the courtroom at noon and I would give them an answer. If you don't want to see them, I'll tell them it can't be arranged. I know it can be upsetting to deal with family in a situation like this. The last thing I want is to add to your stress."

"It's all right. I always had a good relationship with James' family," Jessica assured him. "I'd like to see them."

Looking from one inspector to the other, he asked, "Then all that's needed is your approval. What's the general consensus? Is this a good idea, or not?"

Mary nodded. "We feel it's safe, as long as the meeting is supervised. How many family members are we talking about?"

"Three brothers, with two spouses."

"That's a lot of people," Marshall pointed out. "Are we going to let them all in at once, or break it up?"

Mary focused on Jessica. "What do you think? You want to take them all on at the same time?"

After considering for a moment, she nodded. "I think so, given the time constraint."

"All right, then. I'll have them escorted to you," David announced, standing up. "And I'll be back to check in on you right before we resume court."

***Mary took a sip from her Starbucks cup as she stood near the conference room, close enough to observe but not so close as to intrude, watching the two figures conversing beyond the glass in front of her. In the reflection, she saw Marshall coming to join her.

"I thought you were going to stay with them," he noted with a hint of alarm and accusation in his voice.

"'Thank you, Mary, for getting Orin out of the room earlier so that Jessica and I could have a few moments alone together. That was really thoughtful of you,'" she pretended to quote sarcastically.

"You know I appreciate that. But I know better than to think you did it for me. You did that for Jess' sake," he concluded. "And it doesn't change the fact that you're supposed to be in there with them."

"They deserved at least a semblance of privacy," Mary remarked without taking her eyes from the pair. "Besides, if she hasn't slipped up by now, she isn't going to. You know how careful she is."

"We're supposed to be monitoring the conversation," he pointed out, although he made no actual move to reenter the conference room.

"They're fine," she insisted. "And it's been good for her to talk with the family. She looks more relaxed than she has since we boarded the plane yesterday morning."

"She isn't talking to 'family'. She's talking to one person – her brother-in-law. Who knows what he might get her to say in a moment of … sharing."

Mary turned to look up at him, taking note of the worried expression on his face that matched his tone of voice. After a moment's contemplation, she asked, "Is there something I should know about this particular brother-in-law? The rest of the family didn't stick around even half as long."

Keeping his eyes carefully averted, he replied snippily, "How would I know?"

With a shrug, she agreed, "Yeah, you wouldn't; not unless you were having a relationship with my witness and she had confided in you personal details about her past." Smacking her forehead with the heel of hand, she declared, "Oh, wait – you _are_ having a relationship with my witness, and she _has_ confided in you personal details about her past!"

He gave her a side-ways look of annoyance. "Cute."

Without so much as cracking a smile, she watched him intently and questioned, "So what's the scoop on this brother-in-law?"

Knowing just by the look in her eyes that she wasn't going to give up until she had what she wanted, he grudgingly explained, "She said they had a 'connection'. Nothing unseemly happened between them because they were both married to other people and felt strongly about honoring their vows, but they were close. And now that she's no longer married…" He let the thought trail off with a shrug.

"Unseemly?" she questioned mockingly, with the look that meant she thought he sounded like an idiot. Turning back to regard the pair, she said thoughtfully, "But you know, I can totally see it now. He really is cute, isn't he? And he didn't bring his wife along. Do you think he planned it that way? Maybe they aren't together anymore. Maybe he's trying at this very moment to talk Jess into the two of them getting together."

Stealing a look at Marshall, she noted with satisfaction that the look on his face had become slightly panicked. "Do you really think so?"

Glancing at her watch to see that court would reconvene within minutes, she decided there simply wasn't time to torture him any further. "To be honest, I don't think it really matters what he's saying, Marshall. Jess isn't going to get together with him. Trust me."

Looking at her curiously, he queried, "And what makes you say that?"

She studied him for a few seconds, taking in his deeply sincere eyes and the integrity that practically oozed from him. Giving him an affectionate smile, she shook her head. "Just call it woman's intuition."

***The defense attorney stood before the witness box with a properly sincere look on his face. "First, I'd like to extend my sympathies to you for your losses, Mrs. Lawrence."

"Thank you," Jessica said simply.

Focusing on the floor thoughtfully, he walked a few paces and noted, "Thinking back to the events in question, a lot happened in a very short period of time, didn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed softly.

"I can only imagine how devastating, as well as stressful, those events must have been for you. For instance, while waiting for help to arrive, it must have seemed as though it took a very long time. Is that true?"

"Yes, it did seem that way."

"Perceptions can be distorted when someone is under a great deal of stress, as when a loved one is injured. You said in your previous testimony that you didn't know how long it took before the police arrived on the scene of the accident. Would it surprise you to learn that only three minutes and fourteen seconds passed between the time the 9-1-1 call came in and the police arrived?"

Nodding, she answered slowly, "Yes, that does surprise me. It seemed to take much longer."

"Understandable. You were in shock over what had happened. What about the accident itself? How long do you think that took?"

"I don't know."

"Did it seem as though it all happened in slow motion, or was it more or less over in the blink of an eye?"

"It seemed to happen very quickly."

"Maybe we can get an idea of how long it actually took. Bear with me a moment," he advised, holding up his hand briefly. Turning back to the defense table, he pulled a purse and stopwatch out of a shopping bag.

David stood up. "Your Honor, I don't know what defense is up to, but we're not here to play show and tell. These items are not on his evidentiary list."

"I'm simply trying to establish a time-line, Judge. The witness admitted that her perception of time was distorted by understandably strong emotions. I think it's important that we have a clear understanding of the events in question. These items will help us with that, if Your Honor will allow me to demonstrate."

The judge nodded. "I'll allow it, subject to connection."

"Thank you," the attorney nodded. Turning back to Jessica, he held up the purse. "Is this similar to the bag you had with you in your vehicle on that day?"

"Yes."

Smiling slightly, he said, "I have to admit to enlisting my wife's help with this since it's unfamiliar territory for me. She made a list of things a woman would normally carry in her purse. I've also added a couple of juice boxes, which you indicated were in your purse that day. Am I correct in assuming you had more than one?"

"Yes, I had two."

"My wife said a prepared mother would take along more than just one," he agreed, smiling slightly again as he placed the purse on the floor.

"Your Honor…" David interrupted.

"Yes, Mr. Cole, I agree: move it along without the personal commentary or I'll end this now."

"Of course, Your Honor," he consented apologetically. He held up the stopwatch, then suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, before we proceed, one question: You stated that you turned the steering wheel when you noticed the car beside you and your vehicle jumped the curb. Did you look in the direction your vehicle was traveling when you did that, or did you continue to focus on the other car?"

"I looked in the direction our car was going," she answered thoughtfully. "I didn't want to hit a pedestrian who might be on the sidewalk."

"And you remember thinking that?"

Looking at him somewhat suspiciously, she replied, "Yes, actually, I do."

"That's good," he acknowledged. "Now you testified that you reached down for the juice and knocked the bag over." As he spoke, he acted out his words, crouching down to push the purse over on the floor. "And you were picking up the things that fell out when you heard what sounded like an explosion." He reached for several items and began putting them back in the bag. "You sat up as the car was swerving." He straightened up and dramatically pushed the button on the stopwatch, continuing to match his actions to his words. "You first saw James, holding the wound on his neck. You were already reaching for the steering wheel. Then you saw the men in the vehicle next to you. One looked surprised and raised a gun. You pulled the wheel and looked in the direction of the sidewalk..." He pushed the button on the watch again, peered at the read-out, then held it up. "Eight seconds. From the time you sat up, to the time you turned your head to look at the sidewalk, roughly eight seconds passed. Does that sound about right?"

Jessica frowned slightly, and then slowly nodded. "That's probably fairly accurate."

Moving to stand in front of her again, he continued, "When you picked my clients out of the line-up at the police station, how sure were you that they were indeed the men who were in the car next to yours?"

"I was very sure."

He gave her a surprised look. "Very sure? The whole incident took only eight seconds, which means that you saw the two men for even less than that. Wouldn't you agree that even eight seconds isn't a very long amount of time to look at someone and then positively identify them at a later time in a completely different setting?"

"I suppose."

"So how can you be so sure of what you saw when your perceptions were, by your own admission, distorted at the time, and you had less than eight seconds?"

"I just am," she insisted.

"I find that quite remarkable, that you could be absolutely positive after such a short glimpse of the men in the other car. Do you think it's even remotely possible that you could've been mistaken, that in the stress of the moment, you could've misidentified my clients?"

"No, I don't," she replied with certainty.

"How can that be, when everything happened so quickly and you were understandably, and by your own admission, upset?"

"I don't know," she admitted in response to his intensity.

"Less than eight seconds, Mrs. Lawrence," he continued insistently, taking a step closer. "How can you be so sure of your identification after less than eight seconds?"

She looked down for a moment, seeming to falter at the question. Then she looked back up at him and replied thoughtfully, "When you crouched down to knock the purse over on the floor a minute ago, your pants leg pulled up. The upper part of your socks have a diamond pattern on them with a small red and turquoise design in the center of each diamond. And when you reached to pick up the items off of the floor, the cuff of your shirt pulled back and I saw a scar on your wrist that normally isn't visible. Also, you're wearing a medic alert bracelet that you keep tucked under your cuff. I caught a glimpse of the emblem on it. I saw all of those things in a lot less than eight seconds. But putting everything else aside, I was able to identify those two men because they had just shot my husband and child. And even though I've tried to forget what they looked like since, I haven't been able to because I still clearly see their faces every time I have a nightmare about that day."

The defense attorney's eyes flashed with anger as he looked at her but he otherwise kept his expression and voice carefully neutral as he asked, "Was it your testimony that you knew nothing of your husband's drug involvement until six days before the accident?"

Slightly off guard at his sudden change of direction, she answered a bit hesitantly, "Yes."

"Even though he had been receiving pay-offs for four months, you never grew suspicious and questioned him about where the money was coming from?"

"I didn't know about any money until I found the cash in his pants pocket, six days before we were attacked."

"What do you think he was doing with the extra money he was making?"

"I have no idea."

Turning on his heel, he walked to the defense table and picked up a piece of paper. "Your Honor, I would like to submit into evidence defense exhibit nineteen, a joint bank account that bears the witness' name and was opened only days after Mr. Lawrence first began passing drugs through the airport."

"Objection, Your Honor!" David declared, scrambling to his feet. "The prosecution was never notified about this alleged piece of evidence!"

"This item was put into my hands only late yesterday evening, after an exhaustive investigation by my office," the attorney insisted. "I called Mr. McArthur's office to inform him of it, but was unable to reach him. I did, however, leave a message for him."

"I never received such a message, and it's irrelevant anyway. Defense can't spring this on the court before the prosecution has had time to conduct an investigation of its own to determine its authenticity, or lack thereof. I move to strike all reference to the item and have it excluded."

"Your Honor, this piece of evidence directly contradicts the witness' statements. It's invaluable for my clients' defense."

The judge leaned forward. "Be that as it may, your introduction of it was improper and smacks of some grandstanding of your own, Mr. Cole." Sitting back, he admitted, "However, I can't ignore its value to the defense. I'll give you some time to investigate, Mr. McArthur, and I'm going to hold off on ruling its admissibility until after you've conducted said investigation. How much time will you need to look into it?"

David shook his head. "I can't say at this point. It may take several days."

"I'll give you until tomorrow morning," the judge decided. "That should be sufficient time to check bank records."

As he picked up his gavel to dismiss, David stepped forward to interrupt. "Judge, before you make that ruling, may I have a moment with my witness outside? We may be able to clear this matter up here and now."

After a few seconds of consideration, the judge nodded. "I'll give you three minutes, Mr. McArthur. Make it quick."

Glancing at Mary, David stood aside as she preceded Jessica down the aisle, then followed when Marshall had taken his usual position behind hem.

Once they were all outside and Orin had closed the courtroom door, David took Jessica by the shoulder and questioned quickly, "Do you know anything about the account, Rose?"

"No," she replied adamantly. "I have no idea what he's talking about."

"That's what I thought," he agreed. Turning to Orin, he asked, "Will you wait with her a minute while I have a word with Mary and Marshall?"

At his nod, David ushered the other two marshals a short distance away, out of earshot, and quickly explained, "I don't have a choice here. I have to take the time allowed to investigate the defense's claim so I have something to back up what Rose says when she takes the stand again. I can't leave this all on her shoulders."

"But?" Mary prompted, eyeing him suspiciously while still nervously keeping her witness in her line of sight.

"I think you already know what the 'but' is. I can tell by the look on your faces that you suspect a set-up, too, that the defense has arranged this break in testimony for a reason. You need to get her out of here, _now_. I'll stall as long as I can, but in another minute the bailiff is going to come looking for me. You need to be out of the building before the judge dismisses court and someone has the chance to make a phone call or send a text message saying she's on her way out."

Turning around, he quickly walked the few steps back to the others. Looking at Orin, he said simply, "Service elevator."

"This way," Orin commanded tersely and began to lead the way down the corridor with long strides. Mary and Marshall immediately followed with Jessica between them. As they walked, Orin spoke into his com link. "I need all escort vehicles at the south entrance in thirty seconds."

***Mary stood just inside the door of their quarters with Jessica while both Orin and Marshall did the customary check of all rooms. Returning moments later to give the "all clear", Orin smiled slightly. "It looks like everything is fine. I'm sure David will be calling with instructions for us later. In the mean time, I'm going to have my guys wander around a bit, to keep an eye on things. If you need anything, give me a call."

"Thanks, Orin. We appreciate your help," Mary told him sincerely. When he had gone and the door was closed and locked, she let out a sigh of relief. Turning to head to the living room, past Marshall and Jessica, she began taking off her jacket.

She had gone no more than three steps when she heard Jessica order, "Stop!"

Turning around to look at her in surprise, she saw that Marshall had the same reaction.

Walking the few steps toward them, Jessica crossed her arms over her chest and regarded them intently. "It's time the two of you explained to me what's going on!"

"It's nothing," Mary assured her, returning to put her hand on Jessica's shoulder. "We just didn't want to wait at the courthouse any longer than we needed to. Once David told us he was finished with you for the day, we wanted to get you out of there as quickly as possible. That's all."

Jessica shook her head, refusing to be appeased. "Don't treat me like I'm an idiot. Give me a little credit here. There was so much tension coming from the two of you during the drive here that I practically choked on it. Good or bad, I need to know what's really going on. I'm not going to fall apart, I simply want to know what I'm facing so I can be prepared and help if necessary."

Mary exchanged a look with Marshall, trying to decide if it would do any good to continue with the simple reassurances. Reading his expression, she put her hand on Jessica's back and guided her into the living room, saying, "Come and sit down."

Once Mary had removed her jacket and gun holster, she sat down on the edge of an armchair and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. "First of all, let me assure you that everything is completely under control. We're only telling you this because you asked, not because you need to worry."

Jessica looked from her to Marshall, who had taken a seat on the couch near her. "Just tell me."

After first making eye contact with Mary for more or less her approval, he turned back to face Jessica and explained calmly, "The police in Philadelphia arrested a man who said that the cartel has put out a contract on you. We don't know for certain that it's true, but we're viewing it as serious and taking extra precautions to ensure your safety. David wanted us to get you out of the building before the judge dismissed everyone else, just in case someone tried to set up an attack. But as you saw, everything went according to plan. Like I told you before, we know what we're doing, Jess."

Reaching to rub her neck, Jessica contemplated a moment, considering what he had told her. She finally asked, "How long have the two of you known about this?"

"David told Stan that it was a rumor the day after the break-in at your house," Mary reluctantly answered. At her witnesses' look of surprise, she quickly added, "We didn't tell you about it because we didn't see the point in needlessly upsetting you more than you already were. There wasn't anything you could do about it. Keeping you safe is our responsibility, come what may. And now you have to trust us to do that."

Jessica closed her eyes and sighed. Finally she said, "I told you a long time ago that I trusted you and that hasn't changed. I'll do whatever you tell me to. All I ask is that you be up front with me."

Mary nodded. "You have my word that we'll do that."

"Good. Then I'm going to leave it in your hands and not worry about it," she decided. "Now I'm going to go take a really hot shower and change into something comfortable. Afterwards, I'm going to make dinner for everyone if someone will get some supplies for me."

"You don't need to do that," Marshall assured her. "We'll order out."

"I need to do something to keep myself occupied," Jessica insisted. "Otherwise, I'll go stir crazy."

"I'll go pick up what you need," Mary offered readily. "Just make me a list."

***Mary looked up as Marshall returned to the living after having changed from his suit and tie into jeans and a pull-over. Slipping the holster for her gun back on, she asked, "Is Jess in the shower?"

"Yeah, I heard the water running. I'm sure she needs to de-stress a little."

The look in her eyes conveyed the seriousness of her question as she asked, "So where do you think it's going to happen, if it does?"

With a shrug, he replied quietly, "Somewhere on the street outside the courthouse parking garage would be my first guess. There's a lot of security inside and immediately around the building."

"That would be my first guess as well. With the construction on Walnut, and Third being a one way headed south, that limits our approach to Locust or Court Streets. It wouldn't be difficult to have look-outs posted to give the alert."

"They know where we're going and, unlike today, exactly when we need to be there. I don't think they're going to allow their one last opportunity to silence her slip by without at least an attempt."

"I don't think so, either," Mary agreed solemnly. "I spoke to Orin a few minutes ago. David will be here in an hour or so to help us decide on a strategy and tell us what he's found out about the bank account. Do you want to be in on the meeting or stay here with Jess?"

"I'll stay here," he decided, dropping onto the sofa. "You can handle it."

"I'm going to suggest to David that he arrange to have a strong police presence on the streets leading to and around the courthouse, in addition to the federal agents working this case. Is there anything else you can think of that might help?"

"Nothing comes to mind at the moment but I'll give it some thought."

Putting her jacket on over the holster, she said, "Orin and I are going to go pick up the groceries. We'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yeah, nice how you tried so hard to talk Jess out of spending the evening working, and into getting some rest instead," he chided.

With a shrug, she replied, "You know me: always putting the welfare of my witness first."

***"Damn!" Orin exclaimed as he eyed the shopping cart Mary was adding items to. "There's enough food in there to feed a small army."

"There's almost a small army to feed," Mary noted. "Didn't I tell you? When Rose said she was making dinner for everyone, she meant _everyone_, including you and your guys."

"What? She doesn't need to do that! We were going to order pizza."

Shaking her head, Mary insisted, "Trust me, you don't want to do that. No matter how good it is, it won't compare to whatever Rose is going whip up. She owns a catering business. Her food is awesome."

"Sounds like you know her pretty well," he commented as he strolled along beside her.

"Yeah, it kind of goes with the territory, with being an inspector. You develop a relationship with your witnesses, sometimes a close one. Ever been an inspector yourself?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't like being in one place for very long so that life wouldn't suit me. I worked in Secret Service for a while in D.C. before becoming a marshal and have been moving from one assignment to the next ever since."

"Did you meet David while you were in D.C.? The two of you seem as though you've worked together before."

"That is where we met. He worked in the same office as my wife, who is an Assistant U.S. Attorney. Before David and his wife divorced, we used to all go out together once in a while. Then not long after David left D.C., he called and asked if I would be interested in helping him out on a case. One case led to another and another. Currently my wife and I live in Philly. We have a two bedroom so David bunks with us when he's there. And when I have to be in Harrisburg, sometimes I crash on his sofa. Being friends already, we work well together."

"And your wife doesn't mind the nomad life?"

"No, she really doesn't. She's always up for something new. Since we don't have kids, it makes it easy to pick up and go. We just pack up the U-Haul, put the dog in his crate, and we're off," he said with a smile.

Mary returned the smile. "It sounds like the two of you are a perfect fit."

"Working in a similar line helps. We each kind of know what to expect time-wise, and how the job can sort of take on a life of its own at times. It makes things a little easier. What about you? Husband? Boyfriend? Significant other?"

With a shrug, Mary answered, "Unattached at the moment. I was engaged but we recently broke up."

"Sorry to hear that. Is he in the business?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Nope. He's a retired Dominican baseball player."

"Whoa!" Orin exclaimed, giving her a surprised look. "You stepped way out of the office pool there. Did he know what you really do for a living?"

"More or less. Eventually I felt like I had to tell him," she responded.

"And did that have anything to do with why the two of you broke up?"

"Not really." Giving him a smile, she explained, "Believe it or not, I can be difficult to get along with at times."

"No way!" he declared incredulously.

***"What are you going to make?" Marshall asked as he unpacked groceries.

"Tossed green salad, celery chicken, honey-glazed baby carrots, and a dessert with apples and cream cheese," Jessica answered. "It's all really quick and easy."

"Mmm, it sounds delicious. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Sure. You can start peeling and slicing apples, if you'd like."

"I can handle that," he nodded, stowing the last of the empty bags under the sink.

After he gathered what he needed and set to work on his task, he said casually, "You and Clayton seemed to have a nice visit, after everyone else left."

"He had a lot to catch me up on," Jessica explained as she started the chicken.

"His wife didn't want to be there?"

"She and Clayton are divorced. He said she left him and their two kids about ten months ago to run off with some real estate developer."

Marshall shook his head and tried to keep his tone light as he confessed, "Good thing I didn't know that this afternoon. I would've spent the whole time worrying that he was trying to talk you into relocating with him."

"Not an option," she stated resolutely.

"Actually, it could be, if that's what you both wanted and he understood what it entailed."

"I understand that. I meant that it wasn't an option for me personally," she corrected.

With a shrug he pointed out, "You're both free now. And you obviously still have at least something of a connection."

"It doesn't matter. It would never work out, for so many reasons."

"Like what?" he queried curiously.

She grew thoughtful for a moment before answering softly, "Well, first of all, I could never take his children away from their grandparents. My in-laws have already lost one grandson. I couldn't put them through that again. I also couldn't take Clayton from them. He doesn't understand what it would be like. He's close to his family. For them to give up all contact with each other would be too difficult." With a sigh, she added, "And even setting all of that aside, Clayton wants to be with Rose. I'm not that person anymore. I've changed – a lot. I don't think he could accept those changes."

"He might surprise you," Marshall noted, focusing on slicing an apple into thin wedges. "If the two of you spent time together, you might find that what you had in the past could grow into something that would work now."

Jessica turned around from stirring the carrots to regard him intently. "No, Marshall, it couldn't, for the simple reason that I don't have feelings like that for him. I have feelings for someone else, someone who knows and accepts me for the person I am now. Leaving that for anything less would be a huge mistake."

He looked up from his work in surprise. "Really? Given a choice, you would choose me over him?"

"Of course I would," she insisted. "You have all the good qualities he does plus a lot more."

"I do? Like what?"

"You have a deep understanding of human nature," she responded readily. "I don't know if it's a result of the work you do, or if you're good at your work because it's a quality you already possess, but it isn't something you see very often. You've also chosen a career that allows you to help others at a time in their lives when they may be the most reluctant to accept help, but need it the most. Those things are very appealing."

After studying the floor for a few seconds, absorbing what she had said, he looked back up and asked hesitantly, "And you … have feelings for me?"

"I thought that was kind of obvious," she nodded matter-of-factly.

With a sheepish look, he replied, "I can be a little slow sometimes when it comes to those things."

"I'm beginning to see that," she agreed in amusement.

Laying down the paring knife that was still in his hand, he reached for her and pulled her close. "So what are we going to do now, about these feelings, I mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Take it slow, I guess, see where it leads." With another deep sigh, she rested her forehead against his chest. "But first I think we should focus on getting through tomorrow in one piece. That's enough to deal with at the moment."

"I thought you weren't going to worry about it anymore," he reminded her kindly, slipping his hand under her hair to rub the back of her neck.

"I lied," she admitted quietly. "The truth is, I'm scared to death."

He pulled back so that he could see her face. "Mary and I are not going to let anything happen to you, Jess. I give you my word."

"Is that all you think I'm concerned about?" she asked pointedly. "If these people are coming after me, it means they're coming after you and Mary as well. I'm just as afraid of that as I am for myself, maybe even more so since the two of you are the first in the line of fire."

Placing a hand on her cheek, he advised gently, "Stop worrying. Nothing is going to happen to any of us. Tomorrow morning you're going to finish testifying, then we're going to drive to the airport where we'll board the first of many planes taking us home. And tomorrow night, we'll stand just like this in your apartment, with everything safely behind us." Giving her a smile, he added, "Now tell me what to do with these apples. You have a lot of hungry mouths to feed, including mine."

***"Sorry I'm late," David apologized as he took a seat at the table in the next-door apartment with Mary and Orin. "It took longer than normal to get here. I thought I was being followed so I drove around in circles for a bit."

"You were being followed?" Mary asked with concern.

"Possibly. But don't worry – I know how to lose a tail. No one followed me here, I assure you."

"Still, maybe I should send an escort home with you," Orin told him. "Attacking the U.S. Attorney on a case could result in a mistrial just as easily as attacking a witness."

After contemplating for a few seconds, David shrugged. "I'll defer to you on that. I don't think I'm going to have any problems but I guess being safe rather than sorry should apply here."

"What did you find out about the bank account the defense brought up?" Mary questioned.

"James did open the account soon after going into business with the cartel and a woman accompanied him whose general description fit that of Rose. But when we compared Rose's signature on a canceled check, written around the same time, with the signature on the account, there were some discrepancies. Our hand-writing analyst says the signature on the account is a forgery, and not a great one at that."

"Something the defense should've already known," Mary pointed out.

"I think so."

"Then you think the defense attorney presented it simply as a stall," Orin suggested.

"I do," David nodded. "Cole is just sleazy enough to help his clients do whatever it takes."

"So he knowingly set Rose up?" Mary questioned.

"Not that I could ever prove," David answered. "It is possible that he just looked the other way at the urging of his clients, and not investigated as zealously as he should have."

"What happened to the bank account?" Orin queried.

"It was drained the evening before James was shot. The signature on the withdrawal slip says Rose Lawrence, and is the same as the one on the paperwork opening the account. I'm sure the cartel set things up this way for a reason. The money paid to James was wired to the account directly from another bank, under the name of one of the cartel's dummy businesses. Having Rose's signature on the account probably was done to ensure her cooperation or coercion in the event something happened to James. But once the hit was put out on the whole family the cartel took their money back, minus what James had spent, or left in his pocket as it turned out."

"Damn. How are these guys able to pull stuff like this off? Talk about criminal masterminds," Mary noted.

"They may be from another country, but don't kid yourself that they're anything less than exactly that," David advised. "They're extremely adept at using our system to their advantage. And they aren't afraid to take risks. Their motto seems to be 'nothing ventured, nothing gained'."

"Which leaves us trying to head them off at the pass tomorrow," Mary concluded. "Marshall and I think they're going to try to ambush us on the way to court."

Orin nodded. "With our approaches limited, somewhere fairly near the courthouse is most likely."

"We think so, too," Mary concurred. "The extra security posted would make the area immediately around the building too risky, but the streets leading up to it would be fair game."

"I'll alert the local police department to give us all the help they can spare," David promised.

"And I'll have my men do a thorough sweep of the court building parking garage and surrounding area in the morning, then look for anything suspicious on our route, like something that could be used as a diversion," Orin added.

"Since the defense knows what time Rose has to be in court, maybe you should get her to the courthouse much earlier," David suggested. "That might throw things off course."

"Although that's tempting, I don't think it's wise in this case. A fire alarm pulled could send everyone, including us, out of the building, right into their sights," Orin argued.

"Agreed," Mary nodded. "The shorter the exposure, the better."

"In our favor, we have a lot of manpower and are preparing for every possible scenario," Orin pointed out. Giving Mary a half smile, he added, "As you said, we have a small army."

"Speaking of which…" She reached for her Blackberry and hit a speed-dial digit. "I'll call and check to see how dinner is coming along. Rose told me to be sure and let you know you're welcome to join us, David."

"In that case, I think I will," he nodded. "Especially after hearing you and Marshall brag about her cooking. I'd like to judge it for myself."

***As David strolled to the door of the apartment, he said, "I don't think you'll be on the stand long. There isn't much more Cole can ask you about, other than the bank account. Once you deny knowledge of that, all he can do is try to discredit you about it. Don't let him rattle you, just stick to your guns like you did today. I'll put on our hand-writing expert afterwards to testify to the forgery and back you up. Of course, you'll be on your way to Lancaster by then."

"And if the defendants appeal, will I have to come back?" Jessica asked.

"It's very unlikely that they would win an appeal. There are simply no grounds. But if by some chance one or both do come before a jury again, I would argue that bringing you back would be too dangerous and ask that your testimony from this trial be submitted into evidence. To be perfectly honest, though, I think one of them will take a plea for life imprisonment versus a lethal injection before the decision goes to this jury. And if that happens, he'll forfeit his right to any appeal and seal the fate of his co-defendant." Stopping at the door to face her, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Try not to worry. We're in the final countdown, now. We'll wrap everything up in the morning."

Jessica nodded. "Thanks, David. I appreciate how patient you've been through everything."

"No problem." He gave her a smile. "And thank you for dinner. That was by far the best meal I've had in a long time. I'm happy to say, all the hype about your culinary skills was well-founded."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. See you tomorrow."

"Get some sleep," he advised as he opened the door.

***The dream wasn't that unusual. She was fighting with her mother over the fact that Jinx had totaled Mary's old car, piece of junk that it was. And when dream-induced Jinx stormed from the room, as though the injured party, Mary tried to follow. But the doorknob to her bedroom fell out into her hand, leaving her staring silently at it and wondering how she was going to exit the room. It was only then that she realized the voice in the background had been there intermittently for some time. As she strained to make out the words, though, she heard a loud "Stop!" that jolted her abruptly into consciousness. She lied still in the darkness, trying to figure out if the voice was simply a figment of her dream or a part of reality. When she heard it again, all doubt was removed and she quickly scrambled out of bed. She opened her door just in time to see Marshall coming around the corner from the direction of the living room. She was about to turn around, perfectly content to allow him to handle the situation, when an ear-piercing scream shattered the night.

"Geez!" Marshall exclaimed, taking off to run the last few steps down the hallway and into Jessica's room.

Mary stopped just inside the other bedroom door as Marshall took her sobbing witness into his arms. Once she had confirmed for herself that it was an actual nightmare they were dealing with and not a tangible threat, she started to turn and leave. But at the sight of her partner, murmuring soothingly into Jessica's ear, she stopped. A look of wonder crossed her face as she watched. It was a side of him she had rarely seen, and only when she had been at the receiving end. To see him with someone else, comforting and supportive, both fascinated her and made her feel a twinge of longing at the same time. With a deep sigh, she finally retraced her steps and crawled back into bed, where she stared into the darkness until all was quiet once more.


	8. Chapter 8

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 8

Mary glanced at the read-out on her phone to check the time as she wheeled her packed suitcase to a spot near the front door of the apartment. She had turned off Marshall's chiming phone alarm by his abandoned bed a good thirty minutes before and figured she had let him sleep long enough. Turning back to make her way to Jessica's room, she peered in to find the two entwined together. She approached quietly and reached to gently squeeze her partner's shoulder, hoping to wake only him. When his eyes fluttered open, she whispered, "Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty."

She waited in the doorway while he gently untangled himself from Jessica and pulled the blanket up to cover her. He rubbed his face tiredly as he passed through the door and Mary closed it behind them.

"Coffee's ready," she told him.

"Be there in a minute," he replied as he turned toward the bathroom.

Moments later he entered the kitchen to find Mary perched on a barstool. As he poured himself a cup of steaming liquid, he noted, "I should've been up already."

"I thought you could probably use a little more sleep, given the interruption last night. Now I understand what you mean by 'screaming nightmare'. I'm surprised someone didn't call the cops."

Marshall took a sip of coffee and sighed. "I think it was reliving the accident yesterday when she had to testify. I woke up when I heard her call out for her son."

"How long did it take for her to fall back asleep?"

"Not long. She was a little restless at first but then she quieted down."

"You know, for two people who chose to sleep in separate beds here, you ended up in the same one both nights, and you actually seemed to sleep better when you were together," Mary mused thoughtfully. "Makes me wonder why you bothered with the whole charade in the first place."

"We talked about it when we got here. It was her decision and it was important to me for her to be comfortable with the situation," he shrugged.

She gave him an amused look. "I'm just saying…"

Deciding he was in no mood for her innuendos, he ignored her comment and set his cup on counter. "I'm going to go shower and get dressed. I'll wake Jess when I'm done."

***Mary was on the phone, gazing out of the windows, when Marshall entered the living room. He put his folded pajamas into his suitcase and zipped it closed as she said, "All right. Keep us posted if you hear anything else."

She returned her phone to its holder as Marshall noted, "I thought I was going to wake Jess."

"She woke up on her own. She's taking a shower in my bathroom." Facing him, she explained grimly, "That was Orin. A couple of his guys were checking over the parking garage at the court building when they ran across an old junker parked right outside with new plates that looked suspicious. When they called it in, it turned out the plates had been switched. They found explosives in the car when they investigated."

Marshall's eyes widened. "Did they find a perp to go with the car?"

"Not yet. The cops are reviewing security tapes to see if they can get a look at the driver."

He shook his head slowly. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would the car be in place so early? Why wouldn't they wait until closer to the time court began, when there would be less of a chance to check it out?"

"Orin and I asked ourselves the same questions. The conclusion we came to is that the car was a possible diversion, something to keep everyone occupied while they were setting up somewhere else."

Sinking down on the couch, he asked, "So what's being done about it?"

"The streets around the courthouse and leading up to it are being combed with dogs for additional explosives or anything else that looks suspicious. Orin is going to go down there himself after he drops off our breakfast."

"Have you told Jess?"

"She was already in the shower. But I think we should. Knowing that the car was found might actually make her feel safer, proving to her that we're doing our jobs. Besides, I promised her yesterday I'd be up front with her, and she handled the news about the contract just fine. She's a lot less concerned than I expected."

"No, she isn't," he countered quietly. "When I was helping her with dinner, she told me she was scared."

Mary studied him for a moment. "So what do you think we should do?"

"I don't think we should tell her. She has enough to worry about as it is. Let's just focus on getting her through the next couple of hours, and then get the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible."

"That certainly works for me," she agreed.

***"Mmm, this smells great," Mary noted, inhaling deeply as she took the top box from Orin. "I ate so much last night I thought I'd never be hungry again, but obviously I was wrong."

Following her into the kitchen with a second box, Orin gave Jessica a smile when he caught sight of her and admitted, "The dinner was so good, I got up early and ate the leftovers for breakfast, before anybody else beat me to it. A couple of the guys weren't too happy with me."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Jessica responded. "And the recipes are there on the counter. I wrote them down this morning, as I promised I would last night."

"My wife is always looking for quick and easy things to make with our hectic schedules. In fact, if everything was as easy as you said, I think I could even handle it myself. I might even surprise her," he said with a grin as he picked up the slips of paper. Motioning to the luggage waiting near the door, he added, "I see everyone is packed. Any objections to my taking everything down now? Stevens can give me a hand. Then if I get tied up checking out the route, we won't be scrambling at the last minute."

After getting a nod of approval from both Jessica and Marshall, Mary replied, "All we have left are toothbrushes, so I think we'll take you up on your offer. In fact, I'll help you get everything next door."

Once they were both outside in the hallway, she asked, "Have you heard anything else from your team?"

"Only that they haven't found anything," Orin reported. "I'm going to scout things out and meet a couple of the FBI guys at the courthouse. I want to check the intersections we'll be going through in particular."

"Call me with any news," Mary advised. "We haven't told Rose about the car that was found; we didn't want to worry her anymore than she already is. You might give our escort a heads-up about that so no one lets anything slip."

He nodded. "I'll do that. And I'll call you when I'm on my way back. We'll have everyone and everything in place by then."

"We'll be ready," she promised.

***Jessica fidgeted nervously as she stood before the windows. Marshall watched her as he slipped on his suit coat but resisted the temptation to walk over and put his arms around her. He was afraid that if he did, she would feel his own mounting tension and it would only add to her own.

Mary strolled from the bedroom with her phone pressed to her ear. "So everything looks clear?"

"So far, so good," Orin confirmed. "We've been over the planned route as well as all the alternates. We didn't see anything. I know we're cutting it close here, but it took a little longer than I expected. I'm just rolling up to the parking garage now so it'll be a few more minutes before I get up to you."

"Why don't we meet you in the garage, then? That will save us some time. We're ready to go now."

"Sounds good. The rest of escort is in place already. I'll see you in a few."

Mary secured her phone and nodded to her partner. "Everything looks good. Orin is just returning from checking the route so he's meeting us downstairs to save some time. Are we ready?"

Jessica took a deep breath as she turned around. "I am."

"Let's get the show on the road then," Marshall advised lightly.

As per usual procedure, the marshals checked the hallway before motioning Jessica out, then with quick strides they headed for the elevator.

Once safely inside, Marshall reached for Jessica's hand, not caring in the least if his partner objected. He squeezed it gently and gave her a smile, oddly taking a measure of comfort from the feeling of her hand in his.

When the elevator doors parted, the small convoy of SUV's was waiting a few yards in front of them. After stepping out and quickly surveying the area, Marshall headed straight for them, with Jessica in between him and Mary. It wasn't until the elevator doors thumped closed behind them that the red alert went off in Mary's head. At almost the same instant, Marshall froze in his tracks.

"Cover!" he yelled, and in a single fluid motion took a quick step back and reached with his left arm to push Jessica into safety behind a cement pillar while drawing his gun with his right.

Mary dove behind the pillar to their left as the first shots rang out, coming from behind and to the sides of the SUV's in front of them. Her gun was already in her hand and she returned fire immediately. No more than three seconds after that, the building fire alarm began to blare.

The sound was deafening in the semi-confined space, with nothing to buffer the echoes of both alarm and gunfire as they bounced off of the cement that surrounded them.

"How many?" Mary called after a couple of minutes.

"Four," Marshall answered, confirming her own count.

After several long minutes more, when it became apparent that the marshals were not only outnumbered, but effectively pinned, Mary decided to even the odds.

"Cover me!" she told Marshall, slipping a fresh clip into her gun as she crouched and prepared to run. He sent a volley of bullets in the direction of the three gunmen who had a clear shot at her and she took off, firing as she ran. One of the gunmen leaned out from behind the front SUV in order to take advantage of the situation, but before he could take aim from that position, Marshall focused on him and dropped him with three shots fired in quick succession.

"One down!" he announced as she reached another pillar and stood behind its protective cover just long enough to catch her breath before joining the fray once more.

It took another few minutes before Mary saw her opportunity. Dropping to her stomach on the cold cement, she took careful aim at the ankle of one of the gunmen as he stood behind the vehicle directly in front of her. Squeezing the trigger, she heard his scream of pain almost simultaneously. And when he dropped to the ground, she was ready. She silenced his screams with a single shot.

"Two down!" she declared.

Marshall peered around the corner of the pillar sheltering him, to his right, and then moved back slightly to change the clip in his gun. As Mary continued to trade fire with the last gunman ahead of them, he focused on the one behind the rear SUV of the convoy.

The next sequence of events was over in a matter of seconds, but later he would be able to clearly recall the details as if they had happened in slow motion.

In the brief pause that it took for Marshall to replace the spent clip in his gun, the man behind the rear SUV took the opportunity to change positions and move in closer. Hearing his footsteps, Marshall stepped out without hesitation and fired. The kill shot was already streaking toward its target when he heard Jessica scream, "No!" As the bullet from his gun made contact, out of the corner of his left eye he saw the muzzle flash from a fifth gunman, who had been waiting patiently somewhere in front of them for just such an unguarded moment. And at almost the same instant, he felt Jessica's body slam into his from the force of that bullet's impact.

His left arm automatically caught her around the waist as he staggered back, almost losing his balance. He managed to keep both of them on their feet and aimed his gun just in time to see Mary's shot take care of the offender. Within seconds, the sound of breaking glass and three final gunshots signaled the fact that she had also found her mark for the last gunman through the window of one of the SUV's.

Then, with the exception of the ear-piercing fire alarm, there was the eerie silence that always followed such incidents, as if the whole world collectively held its breath in the cordite-infused air, waiting for the panic that inevitably resulted.

Marshall's voice was the first to break the relative silence.

"Mary!"

Thinking the panic in his voice was due to concern for her, she answered immediately, "I'm here." But his next words dispelled that notion and sent a chill down her spine.

"We need a truck, _now_!"

"Oh, God!" she breathed, knowing that if his panic wasn't for her, there could be only one other explanation.

Keeping low in case there were any more unseen dangers, she darted to the front SUV, a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the body of one of the agents who had escorted them the previous day, tucked out of their prior sight between two parked cars. Once inside the vehicle, she saw with relief that the keys were still in the ignition. Turning it over, she pulled forward a few feet, then backed around the line of SUV's, knocking the passenger side mirror off in the process as she barely squeaked by them. She came to a screeching halt when her partner stepped out with Jessica cradled in his arms. She was about to jump out to open the back door for them, but before she could even move the gearshift to "park", Marshall had already pulled up the latch with the hand under Jessica's knees and was scrambling in. Mary looked over her shoulder as he laid her on the seat. Her eyes widened in fear at the sight of the quickly-spreading crimson splotch on the right shoulder of Jessica's jacket.

"Go!" Marshall commanded, using the sudden forward lurch from the truck to help close the door. As he dove over the back seat and came up with a tote bag belonging to one of the other agents who had been working with them, he ordered, "Exit the garage onto Chestnut and turn left, then left on Front Street, left on Paxton, and another left on Second Street. You'll see the hospital on the right." His voice grew softer as he advised, "Stay with me, Jess. You're going to be all right. It isn't that bad."

"Chestnut, Front, Paxton, Second," Mary repeated, mostly to herself, as the tires squealed around the corner and she turned on the truck's lights and siren. It still wasn't enough to drown out the soft whimper of pain that accompanied each strained breath Jessica took, though.

Marshall pulled a shirt out of the bag and quickly folded it into a small square, then unbuttoned Jessica's jacket and pushed it aside. "I need to put pressure on your shoulder to slow the bleeding. It's going to hurt like hell, but it has to be done."

"It already hurts so much," Jessica responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know. This is going to hurt more," he warned her, and pressed the cloth firmly over the wound.

At the cry of pain that came from her witness, Mary's knuckles went white as she gripped the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry," Marshall murmured in dismay as he kept steady pressure on her shoulder. After a second he frowned. "Jess?" Putting a hand to her chest, the panic in his voice rose slightly as he called again, "Jess!"

Mary's heart rate instantly increased as she tried to focus on driving and look in the rearview mirror at the same time. The panic was evident in her own voice as she queried, "Marshall? What's happening?"

"She just passed out," he assured her when he felt the shallow rise of Jessica's chest.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough. There's no exit wound and the bullet must've hit an artery because there's a lot more blood than there should be for a shoulder wound."

"What the hell happened back there?" she demanded. "There should've been eight of _our_ guys waiting for us!"

"I don't know," Marshall replied. "I don't understand ... I don't see how they found out where we were staying."

"David thought he was being followed last night. He assured me he had lost the tail but he could've been wrong." Mary shook her head in remorse. "I should've suspected something. I should've…"

"Stop it!" he interrupted. "You know it wasn't your fault. Blaming yourself isn't going to help anyone."

"I'm sorry! I'm upset! I've never had a witness shot like this before!"

"I understand that! But we have more important things to focus on at the moment. How far away are we?"

"We're almost there. A few blocks more," she answered. Her cell phone chimed suddenly and she reached to silence it. "Until we know what's going on, I don't think we should tell anyone where we are."

"Agreed," he readily responded. Seconds later, he slipped one hand into his pocket to silence his own ringing phone. As Mary followed the signs to the emergency entrance of the hospital, he added, "I'm going to need your help."

Pulling into a parking space beside the door marked for emergency vehicles, she said, "Tell me what to do."

"Get in back on the passenger side." As she quickly complied, he directed, "Keep pressure on her shoulder while I carry her. Don't let up on it."

Mary did as he said, swallowing hard when she saw one blood-soaked piece of clothing on the floor of the truck and realized the one she was holding to Jessica's shoulder was almost to the same point.

Marshall carefully eased her out of the truck, with Mary scooting across the seat to follow. Once out, they quickly headed through the doors.

As soon as hospital personnel came forward to meet them, Mary announced, "We have a gunshot victim, 34, not on any medications, allergic to penicillin."

"In here," a nurse advised, leading the way to a trauma room.

As Marshall gently laid Jessica on the gurney, the nurse asked, "What is the patient's name?"

After glancing at Marshall, Mary answered, "Sara Johnson."

A doctor joined them and asked, "How long ago did this happen?"

"Seven minutes, maybe eight," Mary responded.

The nurse turned to usher them out. "You'll have to wait outside."

Mary pulled out her badge. "We're U.S. Marshals and she's in our protective custody. We're required to remain with her."

"Stand over there out of the way, then," the nurse ordered, motioning to the corner.

Mary took Marshall's arm and pulled him back out of the way as the doctor applied a pad with a clotting agent to Jessica's shoulder and said, "Start an IV and I'll need an ultrasound."

While the staff began to comply with his orders, the doctor turned to the marshals. "Has she been unconscious the whole time?"

"No," Marshall replied. "She blacked out when I put pressure on her shoulder." Looking past the doctor, he saw Jessica stir as she began to regain consciousness.

"Was she coherent before that?"

"Yes."

"Did she fall when she was hit?"

"No," he answered again, dividing his attention between the doctor and Jessica. "She was right beside me and I caught her."

Turning around as a technician wheeled in the ultrasound equipment, the doctor concluded, "So we don't have to worry about a head injury."

Jessica opened her eyes and frowned at the bright overhead light. "Marshall?"

"It's all right, Honey," a nurse assured her as she continued swabbing Jessica's arm in preparation for the IV. "They're waiting right over there."

Her eyes widened and she lifted her head to look around frantically. "Marshall!"

Despite Mary trying to restrain him, he quickly moved to stand beside Jessica's left shoulder. "I'm here," he told her quietly, placing a hand on her cheek. "Everything is all right. We're at the hospital."

As she tried to tug her arm from the nurse's grasp, she asked, "Are you all right? Were you hurt?" Her eyes immediately settled on the stain on his white shirt. "Oh, God!" she whispered.

Looking down to the spot where her eyes were focused, he quickly assured her, "That isn't my blood – it's yours. I'm fine, I assure you."

"And Mary? Is she all right?" she questioned quickly.

"She's fine, too. She's standing right over there," he motioned, moving aside slightly so that she could see. Turning back to her, he slowly ran his hand down her left arm, gently pushing it down on the gurney. "All of these people are here to help you, and you have to let them. As soon as they start the IV you'll feel a lot better."

"I can't be here," Jessica told him in a hushed voice, panic mixing with the pain in her eyes. "If I don't finish for David, we won't be able to leave."

"It's all right. You don't have to worry about that now. We will leave, just as soon as they take care of your shoulder and you're able to travel." He held her arm more firmly when she let out a yelp as the nurse pushed the large-bore needle into her vein. "Shhh, it's all right. It's over. You're going to feel better now."

"It still hurts so much," she said through gritted teeth.

"It won't for long. They're giving you something for the pain now." He bent closer to her ear as the doctor began to move the ultrasound wand over her shoulder. "Just relax and think about going home. As soon as the doctor says it's all right, we're out of here."

When the medication began to flood through her and take affect, Jessica blinked slowly and the tension in her body eased.

"Close your eyes. When you wake up, I'll be waiting," Marshall whispered.

She nodded once and gave in to the drugs, her breathing becoming slow and regular.

"There's the bullet," the doctor announced, peering at the screen. "Let's get her up to surgery."

Marshall moved back as the wheel lock was released on the gurney and a technician immediately began pushing it from the room. Mary joined him and they followed as the doctor fell into step beside them, then slowed slightly so that they were out of earshot.

"I recently moved here from Philadelphia and I'm familiar with the way the U.S. Marshal's Service works," he informed them. "Is my patient's name actually Sara Johnson?"

"It is to the best of your knowledge, particularly if anyone should ask," Mary pointed out.

"All right," he agreed. "I noticed the nurse wrote on her chart that she's allergic to penicillin. Is there anything else I should know?"

"No, she's in good health and there are no other allergies," Mary responded as they all entered the elevator.

"Any other surgeries in the past?"

"Only a C-section, nine years ago."

Marshall stood silently next to Jessica, taking note of how still she was. Despite the applied clotting agent, the stain on her shirt continued to grow, although at a much slower rate. The elevator ascended quickly enough to make his stomach drop, but it still seemed to take frustratingly long to reach their destination.

When the doors parted and the gurney was wheeled out, the marshals followed with the doctor. They stopped before large double doors marked "Hospital Personnel Only Beyond This Point" as the technician continued on.

"We have a couple of favors to ask," Mary noted before the doctor entered. When he turned to face her, she explained, "I know patient confidentiality prohibits staff from revealing Sara's injury to anyone who calls or comes in to inquire, but we would like to ask that the nature of her injury be restricted among hospital personnel as well. I don't know how many female gunshot victims you get here in an average month, but I'm sure it isn't many. It would be easy for those responsible for shooting Sara to find her if her injury is widely known and someone lets it slip even without mentioning a name. Given that, we would also like to ask that as few people as possible have access to her."

The doctor nodded slowly. "I think we can manage that. I can seal her chart and speak with the few staff members who already know."

"I appreciate that," Mary acknowledged. "As soon as it's reasonably possible, we'll need to be in with her again. How long do you think the surgery will take?"

"I can't tell you at this point. The ultrasound revealed that the bullet struck an artery, so that will have to be repaired, in addition to the other damage. I won't be able to tell exactly how extensive the damage is until I get in. You can expect at least a couple of hours, though."

"Is she going to be all right?" Marshall questioned, voicing the words he had wanted to ask since the moment they had walked through the emergency room doors.

"I can't give you a definitive answer, but barring complications she should be fine. You got her here quickly and controlled the bleeding in the mean time, so her prognosis is fairly good." Reaching for the door, he added, "I'll come out and find you as soon as I'm done."

Marshall stood in front of the doors as the doctor disappeared through them, staring vacantly.

"Let's go sit down," Mary suggested, turning toward the waiting room. When Marshall remained where he was, she took hold of his arm and tugged him with her. "Come on. We may as well make ourselves comfortable. We probably each have twenty hysterical voicemails to answer by now."

He followed her to an otherwise empty waiting room and sat down, still staring into space. As Mary retrieved her phone, he bent forward with his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. With the adrenaline rush gone, he felt completely drained. There was also a knot the size of a softball in his stomach.

"I have messages here from Orin, David, Stan, and several other people I don't even recognize," Mary noted, scrolling through the entries. "The question now is who I call first." When there was no response from her partner, she looked up and then frowned. "Marshall?"

"Yeah," he responded quietly.

Taking note of the dejection in his voice, she changed seats so that she was right beside him. Putting an arm around his shoulders, she pointed out gently, "You heard what the doctor said: Jess is going to be all right. You don't have to worry. She's in good hands."

"It's my fault," he muttered, his voice cracking slightly.

"What's your fault?" she queried in confusion.

"It's my fault Jess was shot."

Mary huffed out a breath. "That was no more your fault than it was mine. The bastards she testified against are the ones responsible."

He shook his head. "I didn't see the fifth gunman. Not until it was too late."

"Neither of us was aware of the fifth gunman because he stayed hidden and only fired one shot, the one that hit Jess," she maintained. "It was a well-organized, brilliantly-planned attack. They knew what they were doing and they knew how we would respond. You can't blame yourself. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It's only because we did everything right that we aren't all dead."

"I left myself exposed. I wasn't paying close enough attention. I should've seen the shooter before Jess did, before he had a chance to fire. Then she wouldn't have had the chance to do what she did."

"You're talking in riddles," Mary stated with annoyance. "What do you mean? What did Jess do?"

Looking up at her, his eyes were filled with regret. "She saw him first, Mare. She moved in front of me. The bullet she took had my name on it."

Mary stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

"Jess was behind me. I stepped out in the open and fired at the perp who was at the tail end of the escort. She saw the fifth gunman make his move then, while I was exposed and firing at the other one. She purposely took the bullet."

"Oh, Geez!" she whispered. Shaking her head, she asked, "Are you absolutely sure she did it on purpose, that it wasn't just an accident?"

"Did you hear what I said? She was behind me until she saw the fifth shooter draw down on me, then she stepped between us. Does that sound like an accident to you?"

"No, I guess not," she admitted reluctantly. "Oh, Geez," she repeated again as she sat back, her mind whirling. When her phone vibrated silently in her hand, she looked down at it and announced, "It's Orin. Time for it to hit the fan, I suppose." Putting the phone on speaker, she demanded, "Where the hell are you?"

"Where the hell are _you_?" he questioned angrily. "I'm at the apartment, watching while the medics cart two of my agents away after the mother-of-all gunfights up here! Imagine my surprise when I find that you, your partner, and our witness are nowhere to be found!"

"That's because we're at the hospital, where our witness was just wheeled into surgery after being shot herself! Maybe you'd like to explain the lack of your presence at the mother-of-all gunfights we barely survived in the parking garage!"

"Oh, God!" Orin exclaimed. "How bad is it? Is she going to be all right?"

Mary took a deep breath and let it out, then answered more calmly, "The doc thinks she'll be okay. She took a slug to the upper right shoulder. They took her into surgery a few minutes ago so we don't expect to hear anything for a couple of hours or so."

"Geez! I had no idea. David is going to be so pissed. He's frantic, wondering where Rose is and if she's all right."

"Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what happened?" she advised.

She heard him take a calming breath of his own before he explained, "While we were waiting in the garage for you to come down, I got a phone call. It was from a woman who sounded like you, shouting that you were under fire up at the apartment. I left one man with the escort and the rest of us headed up. When we were three floors shy of reaching twenty-two, the fire alarm went off and the elevator stopped. We had to take the stairs the rest of the way up. They were waiting as soon as we came out. There were probably ten of them, firing from the doorways of some of the other apartments. We nailed four before the rest took off. When we finally reached the apartment, it was empty and we didn't know what the hell had happened."

"How did they find out where we were staying?"

"I don't know. It's going to take a while to piece everything together. We were all over this place this morning and didn't see a thing. I have no idea how they got in here undetected. They must've had some inside help, though, especially given that someone had access to my cell number. I left it with building management when we first arrived. What happened in the garage?"

"We came out of the elevator and headed for the escort, but when there was no one waiting and no one got out to open the door for us, I knew something was wrong. Marshall was leading and I don't know if he heard something or saw someone, but he yelled for us to take cover and then all hell broke loose. We thought there were four of them. As we were finishing off the last two, a fifth one popped up. He remained hidden until it was practically over and he saw his chance. He fired only one shot, but that was all it took. By the way, I saw the body of the man you left with the escort as we were leaving."

"Aw, damn. I've sent a couple of guys down to check things out. I don't think I've ever seen a better-executed attack, even from our side," Orin admitted grudgingly. "What hospital are you in?"

"No offense, but Marshall and I have decided to keep that to ourselves for the moment," Mary told him. "That way, if anyone asks you can honestly say that you don't know."

"All right by me, but you'd better be prepared to defend that decision with David. I don't think he's going to be too happy about it."

"I'll handle him. Just keep me updated on what you find out about the attackers. We need to know how they found us so it doesn't happen again. Once Rose is in a room, we'll probably need some help guarding her. Until then, Marshall and I can take care of things here."

"I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Let me know about Rose's condition when you hear. And if you talk to her, tell her I'm saying a prayer for her."

"I will, Orin, that's nice of you. And I'll check in with David now. Keep me posted."

Mary sat back in her chair thoughtfully. "It takes some stones and coordination to set up, not one, but two ambushes on a whole posse of U.S. Marshals and FBI agents. Their timing had to be exact, to get all the rest of the guys in the elevator before we got out."

"They had to have a working knowledge of the building, not to mention access to apartments," Marshall agreed.

Looking at her phone again, Mary swore. "Damn! It's David. I was hoping to avoid this conversation for a little longer." Hitting the speaker button again, she answered, "David…"

Before she could say another word, he interrupted frantically, "Mary! Where are you? Where is Rose? Is she all right?"

"To answer all of your questions, we're at the hospital, Rose is in surgery, and the doctor thinks she's going to be fine. She took a bullet to the shoulder."

"Oh, God! What hospital? I'm coming down!"

"Actually, we're not giving out that information at the moment, not until we know how the perps found us."

"Like hell! That isn't your decision to make!" he exclaimed.

Mary kept her voice calm as she replied, "As a matter of fact, it is our decision to make. Her safety is our sole responsibility. We're not letting a repeat performance of the ambush at the apartment play out in a hospital ward."

"Rose is my witness! That makes her my responsibility as well!" David claimed angrily.

"Only until she's finished testifying for you," Mary countered. "You don't give a damn what happens to her afterwards. We're responsible for making sure she lives beyond that point and returns home safely. That trumps your temporary until-you-get-what-you-want-from-her concern."

"That's crap, and you know it! I care about getting her safely through this, too, and keeping the promises I made to her on the day I met her, when I convinced her that I would provide her with a new life, safe from the people who killed her family!"

Letting out a deflated sigh, Mary pointed out, "In her shoes, I think I'd feel let down by both of us at the moment. Look, there's nothing you can do here right now. She's going to be in surgery for at least two hours, the doctor said. Hopefully in that time Orin can figure out how the cartel knew where we were staying."

"And the reason you don't want me coming to the hospital is because you think I'm responsible, that someone followed me there last night and I didn't lose the tail after all," he accused.

"No, David, that isn't the reason. We're not telling _anyone_ where we are. Like you said during your visit to prep Rose, Harrisburg is a small town for all intents and purposes. Word gets around. We've spoken to the doctor about limiting even the hospital personnel treating Rose. We're not taking any chances. And this way, you can say you don't know where she is when you're asked, and you will be asked. You won't have to perjure yourself in front of a federal judge in order to keep the defense from finding out Rose's location. You can say in all honesty that the marshals protecting her have refused to divulge that information, even to you."

She heard him huff out a frustrated breath. "And I will be asked that question all too soon. The judge granted me an hour to find out what the hell happened. That hour ended about three minutes ago."

"Is there any way you can keep from putting Rose on the stand again?"

"I don't see how. She needs to answer, in person, questions about the bank account."

"Can you get a postponement on the trial?"

"I'll have to. But I don't know how long it will be. The judge isn't going to let an empanelled jury sit idle for very long."

"Buy us as much time as you can," Mary advised. "I'm sure Rose is going to be here several days, at the very least. And it will be several days after she's released before she'll be up to taking the stand again. In fact, not to tell you how to do your job, but it wouldn't hurt to exaggerate the circumstances a bit. The phrase 'fighting for her very life' comes to mind."

"I'll do my best. As soon as you know anything about her condition, call me. Even if I'm in chambers, I'll take your call."

"All right. And let us know how the meeting goes. We could use a little good news right now."

Mary pushed the "end" button and leaned her head back in the chair, letting out a little groan. "Two down, one to go. At least I'll have a few answers for Stan." Sitting up straight, she decided, "I need some serious coffee before I face that conversation. Want to walk down with me and find some?"

Marshall shook his head. "I'll wait here."

She studied him a moment, wondering if she should twist his arm or leave him alone. She knew he was upset and needed a distraction, but she also didn't think there was anything on the planet that could pry him away from being as close as hospital regulations would allow him to be to her witness at that moment.

After contemplating, she squeezed his shoulder and stood up. "I'll bring something back for you."

***Turning down yet another deserted corridor, Mary's boots echoed on the tile floor. She had been wandering for several minutes, trying to locate the coffee shop a hospital volunteer had tried to direct her to. Looking to her right she saw a small chapel, and ahead seemed to be nothing but offices. When she reached the end of the corridor and saw nothing more promising, she decided she must have taken a wrong turn or that the direction-giving volunteer had been dipping into patient meds. She had just turned around to retrace her steps when her phone began to vibrate. Snatching it up, she glanced at the read-out and then sighed with resignation. "Hey, Stan," she answered.

"Where the hell are you, Mary? What's going on? First I get a call from David McArthur asking if I've heard from you since his witness never showed up for court; fifteen minutes later I get an alert that two marshals were ambushed in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and that a witness had been shot; I'm going out of my mind with worry, then I can't get either you or Marshall to answer your damn cell phones! Can you explain to me what, in God's name, is happening?"

"Yeah, I can explain some of it, anyway," she replied, ducking into the empty chapel for more privacy. "Marshall and I were ambushed with Jessica in the parking garage as we were leaving for court this morning, while the rest of the team was being ambushed upstairs at the apartment. In the mayhem, Jess was shot. We're at the hospital with her now. She's in surgery but the doctor thinks she's going to be all right."

"She's your witness, Mary! It was your job to protect her! So how is it that she's the only one who was shot?"

"We were pinned and outnumbered, with nowhere to go since someone pulled the fire alarm, automatically shutting down the elevators and cutting off our retreat," she answered a bit defensively. "If Marshall and I hadn't been doing our jobs, none of us would've made it out alive."

"That doesn't answer the question of how your witness was the only one who took a bullet! She should've been your first priority! If you're no longer capable of carrying out your duties as Inspector, then you need to tell me now so that you can be reassigned!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded angrily.

"Maybe getting shot yourself has made you gun-shy. If that's the case, then you need to speak up. I can't afford to put any more witnesses at risk," he explained bluntly.

She could feel the heat creeping up into her cheeks as she retorted, "Screw you, Stan! If you think I'm incapable of doing my job because I was shot, in the line of duty by the way, then maybe you're the one who should be reassigned!"

"You're a U.S. Marshall who allowed a witness to be harmed by the people she's testifying against. Do you have any idea what kind of precedent that sets, and what kind of heat I'm going to take as a result? I've already gotten numerous calls from Allison Pearson, who wants to fly to Harrisburg herself, by the way!"

"We don't need that kind of inept interference," Mary quickly maintained. "We can handle things ourselves."

"Oh, really? If I sound skeptical, _it's because I am_. It sounds to me like you're in way over your heads. In sounds to me like you've become completely incompetent, in fact. How else would you explain a witness getting shot and the marshals protecting her walking away without a scratch?"

"She took the bullet on purpose!" Mary blurted out.

He huffed out a disbelieving breath. "Is that the best you can come up with? That a witness purposely chose to get shot? Forget about job competency. Now I'm beginning to wonder about your entire mental state!"

"Jess took the bullet to keep Marshall from being shot! And if she hadn't done what she did, we'd be having a very different conversation right now, like how to get Marshall's dead body back to Albuquerque!" Mary insisted.

"You'd better explain that to me or, I swear, I'll fire both of your asses right now and send someone else to pick up your witness."

Finally realizing what she had done, she clenched her teeth and mentally kicked herself. But since the cat was out of the bag, she figured she didn't have much choice but to forge ahead. "When Marshall and I were attacked, we both counted four shooters. We eliminated two of them, then each went after one of the last two. Marshall stepped out from behind his cover to finish off the one in his line of sight when a fifth gunman suddenly appeared. He had remained hidden and hadn't fired a single shot until then. Marshall was facing away from him and didn't see him until it was too late – but Jess did. She jumped out from behind Marshall and stepped in front of him. Her shoulder took the bullet meant for his heart."

"Why? Why would a witness do that? What possible reason could someone being protected have for purposely taking a bullet for the person protecting her?"

"_Oh, Geez_!" Mary chided herself, "_I should've seen that one coming_…" Wondering how in the world she was going to explain to her partner that she had once again put her mouth into motion before putting her brain in gear, she took a deep breath, then let it out. "You're not going to be happy about this…" Sinking down onto one of the pews, she explained reluctantly, "Marshall and Jess have been seeing each other."

"WHAT?"

"They've been together for about four months now."

"How long have you known about this?" he demanded.

"I didn't find out until the night her house was broken into. When Marshall and I found her … well, it was pretty obvious who she was the most relieved to see."

"For the love of God, please tell me you're kidding, Mary, _please_!" Stan begged.

"I wish I could," she responded sincerely. "I'm not any happier about it than you are, believe me. Marshall and I had it out the day after the break-in and I let him know how pissed I was about the situation. But trying to force them to steer clear of each other two weeks before Jess was scheduled to testify didn't seem like the best idea, especially given everything else that had happened."

"And it didn't occur to you to tell me about it, to give me a head's up?"

"You've been in his shoes, Stan. Would you have wanted someone to rat you out to your boss? And rocking the boat at that late date would've only hurt my witness. How cooperative do you think she would've been if I had told you and you had kept Marshall from going on this trip, or threatened to relocate her? You're the one who told us to hold her hand for two weeks, to tuck her in at night if we had to. When you think about it, we were just following your orders – literally," she pointed out.

"Don't be a smartass! This whole ordeal could put all three of us in the unemployment line! How am I going to explain this to my superiors?"

"You can tell them Jess panicked, that she thought it was safe to come out of hiding, that in the confusion she misunderstood our orders … there are a hundred ways this could've gone down. For now, though, you shouldn't tell them anything. We don't know for certain what was going through her head because we haven't been able to ask her yet. But blaming it on the relationship Marshall is having with her is unfair and will only result in ending his career. The reason she was shot wasn't due to any error on his part."

"How can I know that? How can I be sure that the relationship didn't cloud his judgment? That would be the logical conclusion, considering what happened."

"Because it didn't," she assured him. "Marshall and I had a discussion about that our first day here. I told him he could sit it out if he couldn't keep his objectivity, and he has, I swear. This was Jess' doing, not Marshall's. And in all honesty, I'm glad she did it because I would've been looking for a new partner otherwise. Big picture here: Unless something unexpected happens, her injury is life-threatening – his definitely would've been fatal."

"Be that as it may, Marshall has some serious explaining to do. I need to hear his side of what happened in that parking garage."

"And he'll tell you, just not right now. He doesn't need to be interrogated at the moment. I know you're pissed at him, but I also know that you, of all people, understand what he's going through. He's a wreck. Trust me, there's absolutely no way you could kick him as hard as he's kicking himself."

Thinking back to how he had picked up the pieces of Marshall when Mary had been shot, Stan heaved an exaggerated sigh and muttered with resignation, "It's a wonder I don't have an ulcer the size of the Grand Canyon, dealing with the two of you." After a pause, he asked, "So what now? Are you safe where you are? Do you need additional help?"

"We're all right for the moment for the simple fact that no one knows where we are. Once Jess is out of surgery and in a room, we'll have to decide if we're going to let the rest of the team in on our location so they can help guard her, or if we stand alone. Orin Nash is investigating to find out how the cartel learned where we were staying. When we have that piece of the puzzle, we'll be able to make some decisions."

"All right. If you need any help, call me. I want an update every hour, whether you know anything or not. And if you or Marshall ignore my calls again, you can consider yourselves unemployed."

"We weren't ignoring you, honest. We just weren't in a position to answer our phones. We stayed with Jess, in the emergency room and after, right up until they wheeled her into surgery. Marshall would've scrubbed and put on a mask and gown to go in with her if they had let him."

"Yeah, I guess I can see him doing that," Stan admitted. "Tell him I'm thinking about him, and Jess, and that I'm keeping a good thought for her."

"Thanks, Stan. I know he'll appreciate that – just as soon as he finishes strangling me for ratting on him. I'll be in touch." Returning her phone to its holder, she sighed and sat back, closing her eyes for a moment. But when it suddenly registered on her where she was, her eyes popped open. Shrugging apologetically, she addressed the empty room sheepishly. "_Sorry about the swearing_…"

***Mary held a cup, piled high with whipped cream, out to her partner. "Sorry it took so long. The volunteer who told me where the coffee stand was must have been a psych patient instead."

"That's okay," Marshall responded dispassionately, holding the warm cup with both hands.

"Stan called, too," she added.

He nodded absent-mindedly. "I'm sure he was concerned."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't exactly his first reaction…" She took another sip of coffee. "He was pretty upset. It seems he had already been grilled about the situation by Allison and wasn't too happy that he didn't have anything to tell her since we hadn't reported in yet. I filled him in on what happened, though. He said to tell you he was keeping a good thought for Jess."

"That was nice of him," he nodded.

"He had a lot of questions about why she was shot."

Marshall turned to look at her a bit apprehensively. "And what did you tell him?"

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she avoided his eyes as she stalled. "I told him what happened, to the best of my knowledge."

"And what would that be?"

She sipped her coffee again, then shrugged. "I told him she wasn't shot due to any error on our part."

Shaking his head slowly, he noted, "Why do I not feel reassured by that?"

Mary glanced at him briefly before turning her attention back to her coffee cup. "I had to tell him Jess took the bullet on purpose … and I had to tell him about the two of you." When she heard him huff out a breath, she quickly offered, "I'm sorry, Marshall, but there was no other choice. He accused us of being incompetent and said if we were incapable of doing our jobs, he would reassign us _or fire us_. So it was either tell him the truth or have him believe that we're completely inept at our jobs. I'd take a bullet for you myself, but I won't take that. I mean, Geez, I have so little going for me in my life, you can't ask me to give that up."

To her surprise, Marshall simply nodded. "Nor would I expect you to. You did the right thing in telling Stan."

"Really?" she asked in confusion.

"Really," he assured her. Turning away from her again, he said, "Despite what you told him, there was error on my part. He should know you aren't to blame."

"It was not your fault," she argued. "Jess was shot because of a choice she made. And like I told Stan, we don't know why she made that choice since we haven't been able to ask her. Before you fall on your sword, you should at least hear her side of the story. Don't just assume you know what was going through her head at that moment."

He studied her thoughtfully, then rubbed his face wearily. "This is so screwed up." Giving her a sideways look, he questioned, "How did Stan take the news about us seeing each other? Do I still have a job to go back to?"

"Actually, he was pretty understanding, especially after I reminded him that he had once been in similar shoes."

"In other words, you threw the relationship he had with his first witness' girlfriend in his face and he backed down," he concluded.

"Something like that," she admitted. "You'll have to face him eventually but I convinced him to wait for now. I can probably continue to run interference for you until we get back. He knows we have our hands full with what's going on here."

Marshall sighed deeply and muttered, "The greatest understatement of all time..."

***"We meet back with the judge in chambers tomorrow morning at 9:00 so I can let him know about Rose's condition," David explained. "He'll decide what we're going to do after that."

"How did the defense attorney react?" Mary asked, cupping her phone in her palm.

"He didn't seem the least surprised by the news that Rose had been shot. And he's already making noise about a mistrial. He knows what he's doing. He's maneuvering things, using the system to achieve his own goals. The judge sequestered the jury at his request so they wouldn't hear about the attack in the news and possibly put two and two together. I opposed but the judge erred on the side of caution."

"Do you think he'll grant a continuance tomorrow?"

"I don't know. If he does, it won't be a long one. Since Cole has already convinced him to sequester, he won't hold the jury for more than a few days. He'll put a short clock on it."

"Damn," Mary muttered. "The last thing we need to do is rush Rose back onto the stand. She needs time to recoup."

"I'll buy her as much time as I can. Have you heard anything yet?" David queried anxiously.

"No, not yet. We still have probably an hour or so."

"The _minute_ you hear," he insisted. "I'd still like to be there to hear for myself."

"Until Orin finishes his investigation, this is how it has to be," Mary reminded him.

"You know I could pull some strings and find out, if I really wanted to. There aren't that many hospitals in the area," he pointed out.

"You could. But I'm asking you not to, for Rose's sake. I promised you we would keep you updated and I'll keep that promise. Just be satisfied with that for the moment. You'll be able to talk with her soon enough."

After a pause, he agreed, "For Rose's sake, I'll abide by your wishes. Don't expect me to be happy about it, though. I don't like being kept outside the loop where one of my witnesses is concerned."

"While that may be, the loop is very, very small at the moment, by necessity. And it needs to remain that way until we know we have all our bases covered," Mary explained. "I'll give you a call when we have some news."

***Marshall paced the length of the waiting room again. "Why is it taking so long? We should've heard something by now."

After checking the time on her phone, Mary replied, "The doctor said _at least_ two hours. It's barely been two and a half. I'm sure he'll be out soon."

"The least he could do is send someone to let us know how she's doing," he complained, turning to walk the other way.

"Either go for a walk or sit down," she advised. "You're making me crazy."

He slumped into the chair across from her. "And I'm going crazy waiting." He gave her an annoyed look. "You know, given the fact that she's your witness, it wouldn't kill you to show a little concern yourself."

"I am concerned," she assured him. "But you're freaked out enough for the both of us, Marshall. Someone needs to keep a cool head here."

"You being the one with the cool head – that would certainly be a first," he muttered. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he declared, "If we don't hear from the doctor in the next fifteen minutes, I'm going to go ask the nurse to check on things."

Focusing on a point past him, Mary motioned with her head. "Speak of the devil…"

After looking over his shoulder, Marshall scrambled up.

The doctor came to a stop beside them, removing his cap and running his fingers through his hair. "Our patient came through the surgery just fine. I have no idea how, but the bullet lodged in her shoulder blade without doing much damage to the bone. By all rights, this one should have been a through-and-through. After the repair work, she'll need a little physical therapy to get back her full range of motion, but nothing too major. There shouldn't be any permanent impairment."

"When can we see her?" Marshall asked anxiously.

"She'll be in recovery for another thirty minutes or so before we put her in a room. You can stay with her after that."

"Is there any way we can get a room that's somewhat off the beaten path?" Mary questioned. "It would make it easier for us to protect her."

"I was actually thinking about that during surgery," the doctor nodded. "One of the wings on the sixth floor is due to be renovated starting next month. It's empty at the moment. We could put her in one of those rooms and I can assign a limited staff to care for her, say maybe four different nurses to cover all shifts."

Mary stared at him in disbelief. "Wow. You'll have to forgive us if we appear stunned. We're not used to this level of cooperation."

"I thought it might make it easier to post additional security if you had a wing to yourselves," the doctor replied.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Mary pointed out, "We haven't really made any decisions in that regard yet. We're still not sure how all of this happened so we don't know that we want additional help. For the time being, it will just be the two of us. My partner and I are not exactly the trusting sort."

"Something you have in common with the marshals I've met previously," the doctor responded. "I'll see to it that things are set up for Sara on the sixth floor. And I'll let you know when we're ready to move her. It shouldn't be too much longer."

***"You're pacing again," Mary pointed out with annoyance. "If you don't chill, I'm going to ask one of the nurses to slip a Valium into your decaff."

"He said she would be in recovery for thirty minutes. It's been that long since the nurse checked and told us the doctor would come out and tell us what the hold up was, which means it's now been well over an hour. Something is wrong, I know it," Marshall insisted.

"If something was seriously wrong, we would've been told right away. It's more likely a case of no news being good news. Maybe it's just taking longer than expected to get a room ready for her, or maybe the doctor had trouble getting it approved by his boss. There's no point in worrying until we know there's an actual reason for doing so."

"Well I need to know for sure. I'm going to go ask the nurse to see what she can find out again," he decided.

Mary got up to follow as he quickly headed for the nurses' station. "Marshall, wait…" she called as she hurried to catch up.

When she reached him, Marshall had already stopped a nurse in the hallway. But before he had a chance to inquire, they saw the doctor approaching.

"I heard you were looking for me," he noted.

"We were getting worried," Mary admitted.

"I'm sorry it took longer than I indicated. We ran into a snag," the doctor explained. "It seems Sara has a touchy stomach. The anesthesia and pain meds made her nauseous. I had to give her something for that, wait to make sure the vomiting stopped, and then see to it that there were no adverse reactions to the medication. I'm going to go upstairs to make sure all the equipment in her room is functioning, then we'll be ready to move her. If you'd like to come along, you can check to see that everything meets your needs."

Giving him a nod, Mary said, "Lead the way."

***The doctor waited until the same technician that had wheeled Jessica from the emergency room left them alone. Then turning to the marshals, he informed them, "I'm going to give you the cell phone numbers of the nurses responsible for Sara's care. After we work out a schedule, I'll also supply you with a copy of that so you'll know which one is on duty at any given time and call that person directly if there's a need. One of them will stop by about every thirty minutes to check on Sara for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours unless there's a problem. The nurses at the station on this floor won't know anything about her other than that they're not responsible for her care and are to leave her alone."

"We appreciate that," Mary nodded.

"Carmen is the nurse you'll call for the next five hours. She's on her way up to introduce herself. You can expect Sara to sleep for the most part. When she does wake up, she'll be groggy from the medication. There's an alarm on the IV machine that will sound when the IV bag gets too low. Call the nurse if that happens since there won't be anyone on staff close by to hear it."

"Is there anything else in particular that we should watch for?" Marshall asked from beside the bed.

"Difficulty breathing, pain, or vomiting are all reasons to call someone right away. Same goes if any of the alarms on the heart or blood pressure monitors begin to sound. The IV will keep her hydrated but if she wakes up and wants something to drink, all she can have for the time being are ice chips, which Carmen will bring you." Checking the read-outs on the monitor next to Jessica's bed, he added, "I really don't think you'll have any trouble. She's stable and her vitals are good. I'll be back to look in on you before I leave for the day."

"Thank you for your help with all of this," Mary acknowledged. "The set-up is great. We couldn't ask for anything better."

He waved her off as he headed for the door. "Glad to do it. And if there's anything else you need that the nurses can't help with, have one of them page me."

"We will. Thanks," Mary replied. Turning around to look at her partner when the doctor had gone, she said, "I'm due to check in with Stan. I'm also going to call Orin and see what he's found out. One of us will need to meet with him long enough to get our luggage if we decide not to tell him where we are."

"I'll stay here," Marshall volunteered, settling into a chair beside the bed and slipping his hand under Jessica's.

"I'll step out to make the calls so I don't disturb Jess, but I won't leave without letting you know," she promised. "I also want to meet our nurse before I go anywhere so I know what she looks like. I'd really hate to shoot her by mistake."

***Even though Marshall's eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Jessica, it was the feeling of her fingers curling around his hand that first alerted him to the fact that she was waking. He anxiously leaned closer as he wrapped both of his hands around hers.

It was several minutes more before she finally opened her eyes and queried softly, "Marshall?"

"I'm right here," he answered, reaching to smooth her hair back. "I told you I would be, remember?"

"I remember," she nodded. "Is Mary here, too?"

"She was until a few minutes ago. She went to get our luggage, but she'll be back shortly. How are you feeling?"

"Okay," she replied, blinking groggily.

"Are you having any pain?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not right now."

"You need to tell me if you do, or if you feel nauseous. All right?"

"All right," she responded, closing her eyes again. "I'm just really tired."

He stroked her cheek and noted, "You have good reason to be. You should get some more sleep now."

Opening her eyes with some difficulty, she asked, "Are you going to stay here?"

Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Absolutely."

***Mary opened the door to Jessica's room and entered quietly, tip-toeing across the linoleum. After first glancing at the bed to see that her witness was asleep, she then focused on her partner. Giving him a quizzical look, she asked quietly, "What are you doing? Watching her breathe?"

"More or less," he admitted with a shrug, continuing to stare at Jessica. "Did you know that breathing is both a voluntary and involuntary action? When we're awake we can choose when to take a breath, or to hold it. But when we're asleep or unconscious, our brain takes over and handles that function for us."

Shaking her head, she reminded him softly, "She's going to be all right, Marshall. The doctor said so. There's no need to worry yourself sick."

He let out a sigh. "I know."

"Has she been awake at all?"

"She woke up for a minute not long after you left. She was pretty groggy but didn't seem to be in any pain."

"That's good," Mary replied, picking up a chair and moving it closer to her partner. After she sat down, she informed him, "Orin thinks he's figured out how the cartel found out where we were staying."

"Really? How?"

"Remember the cleaning cart that was in the hallway yesterday when we left for court?"

"Vaguely."

"Well, one of the women who was working on that floor is dating a guy who has some ties to the cartel. She saw us leave and put two and two together, having heard about the price on Jess' head. She told her boyfriend and he passed the information on, hoping to get at least a piece of the bounty. Then all the cartel had to do was post look-outs across the street from the apartment building and wait for us to return from court to confirm the information."

"And set up the ambush," he concluded.

Mary shrugged. "At least we know there wasn't a leak anywhere or that we weren't sold out by someone we've been working with."

Glancing at Jessica again, he noted, "Small consolation."

"So what do you think? Are we going to let Orin post some guys up here and discreetly patrol the hospital grounds?"

"We may as well," he agreed. "The more help, the better I suppose."

"And what are we going to do about tonight? Returning to the apartment is out, but we could get a hotel room close to the hospital and sleep in shifts."

"I don't plan on going anywhere. The last time Carmen was in, I spoke to her about getting another bed put in this room and she said she would take care of it upon approval by Jess' doctor. This room is obviously set up to be semi-private so there's plenty of space. We have a bathroom with a shower as well. Why would we need a hotel?"

Mary sat back thoughtfully and surveyed their surroundings. "I suppose that would work. The less people see us coming and going, the better. And if Orin posts a couple of guys in the hallway, they could send someone for food." Shrugging, she decided, "Works for me."

"Carmen is due to be by in another ten minutes or so. Hopefully she'll have an answer for us then."

"I'll go give Orin a call and tell him he can put his guys in place."

"Remind him to make sure no one is followed here," he added as she got up.

"He's been doing this longer than we have, Marshall. He doesn't need us to tell him how to do his job," Mary pointed out as she headed for the door.

***Mary looked up from her laptop as she heard a soft groan to find Jessica reaching for the glass sitting beside the bed.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Mary asked as she jumped up.

"I was going to get something to drink," Jessica answered slowly.

"So how about asking for help instead of ripping out your stitches to get it yourself?" she suggested as she scooped some ice chips into the glass and handed it to her, then adjusted her pillow to help her sit up slightly. "The doctor said you can only have ice for the time being. For some strange reason I don't understand, you can keep ice down when even water comes back up. I'm sure our own Mr. Wizard could explain the mechanics of it all if you're really interested."

"Where is he?" Jessica queried.

"He's right over there," Mary replied, motioning across the room. "He had the nurse bring in another bed so we could stay with you."

"You're sleeping here?"

"It seemed like a good idea, given the circumstances."

Jessica crunched a second piece of ice before questioning, "What time is it?"

"About 3 a.m."

"You must be tired."

"I slept for a while before taking over for Marshall," Mary explained. "How are you doing? Do you need anything for pain?"

"I'm all right for now. Just kind of fuzzy."

Mary sat down beside the bed. "Do you feel up to answering a question for me?"

Nodding, she replied, "I'll try."

Putting an elbow on the bed and propping her head in her hand, she asked, "I need to know what were you thinking, stepping out in front of Marshall like that to take a bullet."

Jessica frowned as she tried to concentrate through the drug-induced fog. "It's hard to remember..."

Taking the glass from her as she held it out, Mary placed it back on the bedside table. "You don't have to answer now. I just want you to think about …"

"I was thinking of Mr. Tucker," Jessica interrupted.

Turning back to give her a confused look, Mary repeated, "Mr. Tucker?"

She nodded slowly. "When I saw the man with the gun stand up, I thought about Mr. Tucker, how he risked his life and ultimately lost it because he was trying to do the right thing and help people who were strangers to him. When you first told me about his death, I felt guilty, as though I was a little bit responsible somehow. I didn't want to feel that way again about someone else, and I didn't want anyone else to be injured or killed as a result of trying to help my family or me."

Mary studied her thoughtfully for a moment. "Can I quote you on that?"

"Quote me?"

Leaning closer, Mary continued more quietly, "You have to know there are going to be questions about this, Jess. Witnesses under U.S. Marshals' protection don't get shot. A lot of people are going to want to know how and why it happened. I've already been grilled by Stan as a result of his being grilled by the new district head of the Marshal's Service in Washington D.C. She's a pretentious, egotistical politician, not a marshal herself, so she doesn't understand the way we operate. But we have to account to her, nonetheless."

"And if I said I was shot because of trying to protect Marshall, because I have feelings for him and we've been seeing each other, he would pay the price and lose his job," Jessica concluded.

"Yes, he would. I don't think you want that to happen any more than I do."

"I don't," she quickly agreed. "So feel free to pass along the explanation I gave you. And if anyone else asks me, that will continue to be my answer."

"I'm glad we had this little chat," Mary agreed with a nod. Watching her carefully, she asked, "So is the answer you gave the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Were you really not thinking only of Marshall's well-being?"

Jessica closed her eyes. "To be on the safe side, I'm going to take the fifth here. Besides that, the drugs are pulling me under again."

Getting up, Mary squeezed her hand. "Go back to sleep now. I'll be here if you need anything."

"Thanks." Mary was already returning to the chair where she had left her laptop when Jessica added, "Just so you know, I would've done the same thing if it had been you in front of me."

She turned around with a surprised look. "What? … Really?"

"Really," Jessica insisted.

Walking slowly back to stand beside the bed, Mary looked down at her. "I should've said this already, Jess … Thank you, for what you did. Whether you realize it or not, you saved my partner's life." Shrugging, she amended, "My best friend's life."

As her eyes closed again, Jessica nodded and whispered. "Mine, too."


	9. Chapter 9

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 9

"It's going to be all right. Just hold on," Marshall murmured soothingly, stroking Jessica's cheek. "The doctor is on his way."

Mary slid off the bed on the far side of the room and wrapped herself in a blanket as she padded over barefoot to stand beside him. "What's wrong?"

"She was really restless, then she woke up and said her shoulder hurt," he explained worriedly. "I've already called the nurse. The doctor should be here any minute."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Jess?" Mary asked, stifling a yawn.

Jessica shook her head slightly. "Nothing."

Mary looked up as the doctor pushed the door open and joined them. "How are you doing, Sara? Is your shoulder giving you some trouble?"

"Yes," she answered tersely, trying to shift to a more comfortable position.

"The nurse is going to take care of that for you," he assured her. "I'm going to remove your dressing and take a look at your incision."

As the nurse injected a dose of painkiller into Jessica's IV, Mary and Marshall moved a discreet distance away while the doctor carefully removed the bandage from her shoulder and examined the wound. When he had finished, he patted Jessica's arm. "Everything looks good. You should start feeling better in a couple of minutes. The nurse is going to put a fresh bandage on for you." Turning around, he walked over to where the inspectors were waiting. Keeping his voice low, he reported, "There isn't any sign of infection, just some swelling. That and the increase in pain is most likely due to the amount of work I did on her shoulder yesterday catching up with her. The next three days or so will be difficult, then we should see some improvement. I've raised her doses of both pain and anti-nausea meds so she'll probably sleep for most of the day. If you see any changes or if she seems uncomfortable, let us know right away."

"All right," Mary agreed. "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"No problem. I'll be back to check on her this afternoon."

***Marshall exited the tiny bathroom and stashed his previously worn clothes in his suitcase. "There's barely enough room to turn around in that shower," he noted quietly.

"Yeah, I think I have bruises on my elbows from hitting the walls while I was washing my hair," Mary agreed in an equally subdued voice, setting her laptop aside to stretch.

"Did Jess sleep through your shift last night?"

"No, she woke up once and had some ice chips."

"How was she?"

"Fuzzy, she said, but otherwise all right." Watching him closely, she added, "We talked a little. She told me why she took the bullet."

He paused in putting away his shaving kit to focus on her. "Oh?"

With a nod, she responded, "She said she was thinking of Mr. Tucker, how he had sacrificed his life to do the right thing for her and her family. She didn't want to see anyone else injured for the same reason."

Turning back to his task, he shrugged casually. "That makes sense, given the kind of person she is."

"You aren't disappointed that she didn't do it solely for you?"

He stood up and moved his suitcase to the corner. "Why would I be disappointed? I'm just relieved she's going to be all right. That's all that matters."

"Of course … that's all that matters," Mary said with a smirk. "Orin called while you were in the shower. He said David is on his way over. A couple of agents are escorting him, mostly to make sure he isn't followed."

"I guess he wants to tell us what the judge decided about a continuance."

"Probably. He should be here in a few minutes."

"We need to keep him away from Jess. She's in no shape to deal with visitors today," Marshall warned. "She needs to rest."

"You don't have to convince me," she agreed. "I'm with you one hundred percent."

***"I'll stay here and keep a close eye on her," Orin promised. "David is in the waiting room."

"If she wakes up and wants something to drink, she can still only have ice chips," Marshall informed him as he and Mary started for the door. "If she seems to be in pain or needs anything else, come and get us right away."

"I promise, I'll take good care of her," Orin assured him, taking the seat Mary had occupied.

With one last look at Jessica, Marshall followed Mary out of the room and down the hallway. When they rounded the corner by the waiting room, they found David standing at the window.

"How is Rose?" he asked anxiously as they approached.

"She's in a lot more pain today than she was after the surgery yesterday," Mary reported.

"I'm sorry to hear that," David noted.

"The doctor said it isn't unusual, given the work he did on her shoulder. He came in earlier and upped her pain meds so she's pretty out of it. And FYI, the staff here knows her as Sara Johnson," Mary informed him, "a nice generic name we made up just for the occasion."

"I'll keep that in mind," he nodded.

"How did the meeting with the judge go?" Marshall asked.

"It didn't go well at all. In part due to the ruckus the defense raised over the issue, the judge not only refused to grant the three week continuance I asked for, but he wouldn't even give us until Monday morning without the assurance that Rose will be able to take the stand then. Since I couldn't give him that assurance, he was going to declare a mistrial on the spot and dismiss the jury. I was able to talk him into postponing the final decision until tomorrow afternoon, though."

"Damn!" Mary swore. "Isn't there something you can do to buy us more time? File an objection or something?"

"The judge has sole discretion in this instance so there is no recourse. If I could tie the defendants to the attacks yesterday and to Rose being shot, it would be different. But given the time constraint, that isn't going to happen by tomorrow. So as it stands now, once he's made his ruling official, our only option will be to reschedule and start all over with a new jury."

Marshall eyed the other man suspiciously. "Why do I get the feeling there's a 'but' coming on?"

"There is a way to salvage this trial with this jury," David replied a bit reluctantly.

"And that is?" Marshall queried cautiously.

David shook his head and warned, "You're not gong to like it."

"Try us," Mary suggested.

Taking a deep breath, David explained, "Rose could take the stand tomorrow afternoon and finish her testimony."

"What? Are you out of your mind? She can't even get out of bed!" Marshall declared.

"I told you, you wouldn't like it. Let me finish, though. She wouldn't have to appear for very long. All she has to do is refute the defense's claim about the bank account so that we can introduce corroborating evidence, then she'll be free to leave. You could drive her straight to the airport."

"You _are_ out of your mind! If you had ever been shot, you would never even _think_ of suggesting such a thing! Do you have any idea what you're asking?" Marshall demanded irately.

"Yes, I do know what I'm asking," David insisted. "She would have to be off of all narcotics before testifying, which means no pain meds stronger than Tylenol. I don't like the idea any more than you do but there aren't a lot of options here. If a mistrial is declared, it will take months to get put back on the court docket. We've almost got this case locked up now. The last thing we need is to have to start from scratch with a new jury."

"It isn't our job to help you win your case," Marshall countered. "Our job is to protect our witness, even if that means from _you_! Appearing tomorrow is out of the question!"

"Do you really think Rose wants to go home and come back again at a later date?" David questioned.

"Of course she doesn't," Mary interjected before her partner could fire off another angry response. "But you haven't seen her. Marshall is right. It's doubtful that she'll be physically capable of appearing, even if she wants to."

"Then fine. In that case, we'll tell the judge to reschedule as he already intends to do. I'll abide by whatever decision she makes but she deserves to know what's going on. I have to at least present her with the options."

Marshall took a menacing step toward him. "Like hell you will! I'm not going to let you badger her! She's been through enough!"

Standing his ground, David retorted, "You don't have a say in this! It has to be Rose's decision!"

"She isn't in any shape to even discuss it! Besides that, she's already testified – she doesn't need to take the stand again. You can prove she wasn't the one who opened the bank account without her," Marshall pointed out insistently.

"I can present all the evidence in the world to that effect, but it won't have the same impact as it will coming from Rose," David persisted. "And setting all of that aside, Cole can claim he didn't finish his cross examination. Do you really think he's going to let her walk away without taking another crack at her? It's one more opportunity to discredit her or get her to turn tail and run."

"So it isn't enough that she already testified to seeing her family killed, and was shot by the defendants' hit-man for her trouble. You're going to force her to leave a hospital bed to take the stand again and tell the jury what you could prove without her if you wanted to. In other words, to hell with her well-being! Winning this case here and now is all that matters to you!" Marshall claimed angrily.

"I can care about Rose's well-being and want to win my case at the same time," David stated defiantly. "The two are not mutually exclusive. And I'm not going to force her to do anything. I'm simply going to present her with her options. But realistically, it's in her best interest to finish her testimony now. We all know that bringing her back here a few months from now will expose her to the same dangers she faced this time, maybe even more. And next time, she may not be so lucky."

"If you think I'm going to let you hold that over her head…" Marshall began warningly.

Mary took a step toward him and grabbed his arm. "Hold on a minute, Marshall. He's right. This isn't our decision to make."

He turned to stare at her incredulously. "You agree with him? After seeing how much pain she's in today? You want to allow him to go in there and intimidate her?"

Mary shook her head, torn between protecting her witness from present danger or future harm. Finally she looked at David and said, "Give us a minute, will you?"

Glaring at Marshall, he nodded and headed down the hallway.

When he was out of earshot, Marshall whirled around to face her. "We talked about this, about how we needed to keep him away from her today. You agreed, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. But that was before we heard what he had to say."

Huffing out a breath, he accused, "So this is how it's going to be. If she were any other witness of yours, you'd be fighting tooth and nail for her. And I know that because I've seen you do it countless other times with countless other witnesses. But since she and I are seeing each other, suddenly it's hands off, let her fight a hell-bent prosecutor all alone when she's in no shape to even fight a fly! Is this your way of punishing us?"

Mary rubbed her face tiredly, "Geez, Marshall, give me a break. This is difficult enough without you going all paranoid on me. My agreeing with David that Jess should be informed has nothing to do with your relationship with her."

"So you just think it's a good idea to stop her pain meds and push her back on the stand tomorrow," he concluded sarcastically.

"No, I don't. I think it's a lousy idea – expect for all the other even worse ones. We've been backed into a corner and the goal is to get out with the minimal amount of danger to our witness. Part of doing that is making her aware of the situation. We've kept things from her too much already, with the excuse that it's in her best interest. This isn't something we have the right to keep from her, though."

"It isn't a fair choice to present to her now after all that's happened, not to mention that any decision she makes will be made under the influence of painkillers. You know what choice she's going to make given how difficult it was for her to come here in the first place."

"Sooner or later, she's going to find out that she had the option to finish this here and now," Mary pointed out. "How do you think she'll react if it's later, after the opportunity has passed? She'd never forgive us, let alone trust us again. Do you seriously think she'd willingly come back with us after that and go through this all again?"

"I know she won't come back and, frankly, I don't care. David could make his case with the testimony she's already given but he isn't even willing to try. She's fulfilled her obligation. If she thinks there's even a chance that she'll have to come back to Harrisburg, though, she'll agree to anything, no matter what the cost. Presenting her with this choice is no choice. She won't care about the danger to herself. We both already know what she's going to say."

Mary studied him for a moment as the emotion behind his insistent words suddenly became clear to her. Finally she said gently, "I know you're afraid for her and I know you don't want to see her in pain, Marshall. But you have to let her make this decision for herself. And I think you know that."

He turned away, clenching his teeth.

Without waiting for him to answer, she reached out and squeezed his arm. "Come on. Let's go get David."

***Orin looked up from scrolling through his phone messages as the solemn trio entered the room. Looking from one to the other, it didn't take much skill to read their faces. As Mary and David approached the sleeping form in the hospital bed, Marshall hung back, folding his arms over his chest and taking a decidedly defensive posture near the foot of the bed.

Mary took Jessica's hand in hers and said softly, "Rose, wake up. I need to talk to you."

She opened her eyes groggily and blinked slowly, trying to focus on the face leaning over her. "Mary?"

"Hey, you have a visitor," she said, moving aside slightly so that the prosecutor could take a step closer.

"Hello, Rose."

"David, what are you doing here?" Jessica asked in confusion.

"I've been worried sick," he replied sincerely. "I had to come by to see how you were doing."

"I'm okay," she assured him, sounding anything but. "I'm sorry I didn't make it back to the trial."

David bit his lip as he considered changing his course of action, but then decided to forge ahead. "I need to tell you something, Rose."

She regarded him with glassy eyes. "What is it?"

"I met with the judge today," he replied without preliminaries. "He wants to declare a mistrial. That means he would reschedule the case, probably for a few months from now, and we would start all over. You would go home, then come back and testify again at that later date."

Even through the drug-induced haze, the fear in her eyes was impossible to miss. She reached with her left hand to prop herself up slightly with the pillow. "He wants to do this because of what happened to me?"

"Yes, to give you time to recover."

"And if I won't come back?" she asked.

David shook his head slowly. His voice was kind as he reminded her, "You know you don't have that option. Seeing this through is the condition of you remaining in WITSec. And after what happened yesterday, I think you realize how important that is."

Jessica closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. "Is that my only choice then, to come back here in a few months? Isn't there something else we can do?"

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "Yes, there is something else. The judge gave us until tomorrow afternoon. If you take the stand then and complete your testimony, we can go ahead with this trial. You could leave Harrisburg immediately afterwards and not have to worry about coming back."

Marshall moved forward to stand on the other side of the bed. "Before you consider that option, you need to know what it entails." When she looked up at him, he continued, "You can't take the stand under the influence of narcotics, which is what your pain meds are. You would have to stop taking them about six hours before you testified, to give them a chance to clear your system. The doctor told us earlier that your pain is probably going to be at its worst for the next three days, maybe more. You know what it was like when you woke up this morning, and that was simply on a lower dose than you're on now. Going off of all medication for seven hours or so won't be easy."

"But if you wanted to try, and then it got to be too much and you didn't feel you could handle it, you can change your mind right up until the moment before you take the stand," David interjected, uncomfortable with how persuasively the inspector had presented his case.

"We're not telling you what to do," Mary pointed out, the voice of reason once more. "We simply want you to have all the facts."

"I'll do it," Jessica decided instantly, her tone of voice resolute despite her words being slightly more deliberate than normal.

Before her partner could object further, Mary put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure that's what you want to do? Even knowing what's in store for you, pain-wise?"

"I'm sure," she replied, settling back and closing her eyes once more. "You can tell the judge I'll be there."

David squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about anything. I'll set it up. Get some rest now and I'll see you tomorrow." Glancing at the inspectors, he noted, "Can I see the two of you outside so we can hammer out the details?"

Mary nodded and began following him to the door. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized that Marshall was making absolutely no move to join them. When she saw the look in his eyes, though, she knew better than to suggest otherwise. "Maybe Marshall should stay with Rose while I work on a plan of action with you and Orin," she advised.

With only an exchanged glare between David and Marshall as a reply, she followed the two men out. As the three headed for the waiting room, David said crossly, "You need to work at getting your partner on board here. His obstinacy is making the situation more difficult for everyone involved. It's obvious he has personal feelings for Rose, but he needs to set that aside and start acting like a professional, for her sake as much as anyone's."

Mary grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks, eyes flashing with anger. "Let's get a couple of things straight. First of all, you don't know a damn thing about my partner. He happens to be one of the very best in this business and I trust his judgment more than I trust my own. And while it may seem that I agree with you putting Rose back on the stand tomorrow, nothing could be farther from the truth. I happen to agree with Marshall that you're putting your interest ahead of what's best for her. Unfortunately, I don't see any alternative because I know Rose very well, and you can believe me when I tell you that she will not return to Harrisburg for another trial. She'd sooner drop out of the program than do that. And since I refuse to allow that to happen, I'm stuck getting her prepared to face a jury again tomorrow even though every instinct tells me it's wrong. So instead of complaining about Marshall making things more difficult for you, just be glad we aren't packing up Rose and taking her out of your reach today."

"What you fail to understand is that I do have Rose's best interest at heart here," David countered. "I know how difficult it was for her to return to Harrisburg given what happened before she left, and I know how much she doesn't want to go through this again. But I'm also extremely concerned for her safety. If she has to come back at a later date, I don't know that anyone will be able to protect her. The defendants will do everything within their power to make sure she never reaches the courtroom again, and we've seen firsthand just how much power they command. Their network is too widespread. No place in Harrisburg will be safe for her. And I had a relationship with her before you and Marshall ever entered the picture. I'm the one who convinced her to testify in the first place. I feel a great deal of responsibility for her well-being, too, and having her take the stand tomorrow is the only way I can see to fulfill my promises to her, to see her safely through this. Think what you want of me, but the bottom line is that it's in Rose's best interest to finish her testimony when we have the element of surprise on our side. The defense won't be expecting it and no one will have time to plan another attack since I don't intend to tell even the judge that she's reappearing until the last possible moment. You aren't the only one who intends to see that she gets home in one piece."

Regarding him thoughtfully, Mary nodded. "Fair enough. Then let's talk specifics. There are some safety precautions I'm going to insist on and, in addition, something you need to do just for Rose, given the sacrifice she's making to give you what you want."

"And what's that?" he asked curiously.

Parroting his words, she shook her head and warned, "You're not going to like it…"

***Marshall stood at the window of the hospital room and looked out at the busy street below. He was still seething with anger at how David had, for all intents and purposes, coerced Jessica into taking the stand again. But as much as he wished his anger was only for the U.S. Attorney that had walked from the room moments before, he knew that wasn't entirely true. He knew that at least a portion of it was directed at himself. How many times had he said much the same words to witnesses under his care in order to get them to fulfill their own obligation in testifying? Granted it had seemed like a necessary part of the job at the time, but now, when the tactic had been applied to someone he cared about, the whole thing was leaving a very sour taste in his mouth.

"Marshall?" a soft voice called.

He turned immediately and moved to the bed. "I'm here. Do you need something?"

"I'm really thirsty."

After scooping some ice into a cup, he helped her sit up slightly as he reminded her, "The doctor said you can still only have ice chips."

Jessica nodded and accepted the cup. As she crunched a piece of ice, she looked up at him, struggling to focus again. "You're angry with me," she finally decided.

With a deep sigh, he shook his head. "You're not the one I'm angry with."

"Then who?"

"I'm angry at David for coming in here and practically threatening you to get you back in the courtroom before you've had a chance to recover," he answered, avoiding her eyes just in case she could see that his words weren't the whole truth and nothing but.

"He's only doing his job, and the situation isn't entirely in his hands. It's the judge who wants to declare a mistrial."

"David could try to make his case without putting you back on, but he isn't even willing to try. He's using you to avoid having to put forth any effort himself, and risking your well-being in the process."

"I'll be all right. I only have to appear for a few minutes."

"A few minutes on the stand but a lot longer without anything for pain," he argued. "You were given a painkiller within fifteen minutes of being shot. I don't think you understand how bad it's going to be to suddenly do without. I've been there and, believe me, it's relentless. When I was shot, we couldn't get to medical help for several hours afterwards. I could barely think of or focus on anything else, the pain was so overwhelming. And I'm afraid it's going to be that way for you. I don't want you to have to go through that."

"What choice do I have? I can't come back here again," she insisted, handing the cup of ice to him, her eyes suddenly intense. "Nothing could be as bad as going home with the knowledge that this isn't over, that I'll have to return, to have people call me Rose again, to relive the last few hours of her life and tell her story to another room full of strangers. No amount of physical pain can compare to the pain of simply being here, where there are so many reminders of what I lost."

He shook his head and reached for her hand, "I'm sorry, Jess. I'm not trying to upset you or persuade you to do what I want. My only agenda here is doing the right thing for you."

"The right thing for me is not having to come back here, ever. No matter how bad it gets tomorrow, I'm not going to change my mind. I'm going to finish my testimony so I can leave this place and never return. You can stand by me or not. The choice is yours."

Squeezing her hand, he leaned forward and asked, "What makes you think I would even consider running out on you just because I don't agree with you? I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right beside you, as always."

She let out a sigh and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Marshall. I know I can count on you. I don't know what I was saying. Chalk it up to the drugs, or to stress."

"That's all right, I understand. The drugs and the stress are why you need to sleep, though," he advised.

Forcing her eyes open again, she said, "Before I do go back to sleep, I thought of something that might help the case."

"What is it?"

"With the exception of only a couple of weeks, I volunteered at Silas' school every Friday. I spent the whole afternoon. Someone from the school might remember me, or they may still have records. I know I had to sign in each day I worked there. If the bank account was opened on a Friday, the school records might make it easy to prove I wasn't the one who opened it."

"I'll make sure David looks into it," he promised her. "Now I want you to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

***Mary slipped through the door and tip-toed across the room to sink gratefully into the chair next to Marshall.

Heaving a weary sigh, she asked, "Is she doing all right?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," he shrugged. "Did you have a good chat with David and Orin?"

Ignoring his rather cool demeanor, she replied, "Not sure I'd categorize it as chatting. I made a list of demands and they agreed to comply. Not that they had much choice." She unzipped her boots and pulled them off, then stretched her legs out in front of her. "I spoke with Stan a few minutes ago. He shares you concerns about Jess testifying. He thinks it's too soon. He said that if we don't think she can handle it tomorrow, we should insist on keeping her here, David be damned. And he'll back us up, whatever we decide."

"Good to know, I guess."

"For the record, I also told David I agreed with you, that we should wait."

He eyed her somewhat suspiciously. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. You know I'm not any happier about this than you are," she confirmed. "So let me ask you something: Do you honestly think allowing her to go off her meds and testify tomorrow is going to unduly harm her in some way?"

Fully suspicious at that point, he asked, "Why are you asking me?"

"Because in this instance, with this witness, you're in a better position to know how she's really doing. I think she'll tell you things she won't tell me." She slid down in the chair and tipped her head back, closing her eyes briefly. "And because I'm tired and I'm stressed and I'm worried that I'll make a mistake and Jess will be the one who suffers. I'm at a loss here, Marshall. In her shoes, I'd want to tough it out and wrap this up so I could go home without the thought of returning hanging over my head. But that's just me."

His expression softened. "It isn't just you. Jess feels the same way. I spoke with her while you were with David and Orin. She's made up her mind. No one is going to change it at this point."

She turned her head to focus on him. "Do you think it's going to really hurt her in some way, besides the obvious physical discomfort? Is it going to set back her recovery or anything?"

"I don't know. Those would be good questions for her doctor – if it mattered. She's determined to go through with it, though, come hell or high water. And honestly, I think fighting her on it would do her as much harm as anything. I may not agree with her, but I realize she needs both of our support to get through this."

Mary turned her head to stare at the ceiling again. "Damn, tomorrow is going to be a long day. I can't tell you how glad I will be when it's over."

"You and me both." Motioning to the bed behind them, he suggested, "Why don't you go take a nap? We need to get as much rest as possible while we can. I'll keep an eye on Jess for a while."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. I'll probably sleep for a while myself later this afternoon. Go, crawl into bed."

Getting up, she willingly complied, stretching out with a contented sigh. Then, turning to look over her shoulder, she said, "But don't think that just because I'm asleep, you don't have to order me something for lunch when the time comes."

***The doctor shook his head as he stood in the hallway outside of Jessica's room. "You realize you'll be taking her out of here against medical advice. She needs at the very least three or four more days of care before we should even consider doing that."

"It's what we have to do in order to ensure her safety," Mary insisted.

"And denying her medication for pain? How is that going to contribute to her safety?"

"It isn't, but that's the condition of us being allowed to take her where she will be safe."

"We're not happy about this," Marshall added. "But we don't feel we have much of a choice. Ultimately, it's in Sara's best interest to get her out of Harrisburg as quickly as possible. We're worried about another attack."

"And as she told you, the decision was hers," Mary assured him. "She knows the risks and what she's in for. She made an informed decision."

"Informed decision? How many times has she been shot before, had surgery as a result, and then gone off of pain meds less than forty-eight hours later? Unless she's been there and done that, you can't really consider the decision an informed one." Holding up his hand, the doctor continued, "I know: it isn't your decision and you aren't happy about it. Do you intend to bring her back here at all after she does whatever it is she needs to do?"

"No," Mary answered. "We'll be leaving town immediately afterwards."

"Then I'll have to send some supplies along with you. Have either of you ever given injections before?"

The two exchanged glances, then Mary nodded. "We've both had fairly extensive first aid training."

"Good, because Sara is really going to need your help when the time comes."


	10. Chapter 10

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 10

Orin handed a couple of take-out boxes to Mary and asked, "How is Rose holding up?"

"Not so good," she replied, taking a seat in one of the waiting room chairs. "They stopped giving her pain meds about four hours ago. The first couple of hours weren't too bad but it's steadily getting worse. The next two are really going to be rough. The nurse just brought in a fresh ice pack for her shoulder. Hopefully it will give her at least some relief."

"David said his meeting in judge's chambers at 1:45 has been confirmed, so she should be able to take the stand right at 2:00. Hopefully we'll be on our way out of there by 2:30," he reported, sitting down as well.

"Two-ten would be better, but I'll settle for 2:30," she agreed, setting one box aside and opening the other.

Motioning to the lone box, he asked, "Do you want me to sit with her for a while so you and Marshall can take a break and eat your lunch?"

"It's nice of you to offer, but I'm not really counting on Marshall actually eating, let alone leaving the room. He's too stressed. I keep thinking he's driving Rose crazy more than helping her. But if he gets even two steps away she starts to panic, so I guess she's okay with his hovering."

"I have to admit I was really surprised when David brought up their relationship yesterday. I had no idea."

"Yeah, surprise was my first reaction, too, followed immediately by being mind-numbingly pissed," Mary retorted with annoyance after chewing a bite of her burger. "But just so you know, it isn't like him at all to do something like this – he's so by-the-book. In fact, he's usually the one pulling me back from the edge of the cliff. Honestly, I don't know what's going on with him."

"You have to give at least a little of the credit to Rose," Orin pointed out. "She is a special case."

"What do you mean?"

"I've escorted quite a few witnesses in the course of my career, and I've never had one like Rose before. Surely you don't get that many, either."

"If you mean the truly innocent ones, you're right, we don't get that many," she admitted with a shrug. "Most of them are low-lifes, or lower."

"I'm not talking only about that. Rose is … different. Even on the worst day of her life, it was like she held herself to a higher standard. Despite all she was going through she never forgot to say 'please' or 'thank you'. She had sort of a quiet dignity, for lack of a better word, even though you could see that her heart was broken. She impressed me."

"So that's all it takes to impress men? Keeping your mouth shut other than to say 'please' and 'thank you'? No wonder my relationships haven't been sterling successes."

He let out a laugh. "The list is a little longer than that. All I'm saying is that I can see what Marshall sees in Rose. And if he's as good a guy as you make him out to be, then I'm happy for both of them, rules to hell."

She pointed a fry at him menacingly. "If I catch you saying something that encouraging to his face, you're going to learn from me exactly what hell is."

***"This will probably be my last opportunity to visit with her since things should move very quickly once we leave here," Orin explained, standing outside the door of Jessica's room. "Go speak with the doctor, take a break, and I'll stay with her. I'll make sure she gets anything she needs."

Mary took Marshall by the arm. "He's right. You could use a break. And we both need to be there when the doctor tells us what to do."

Marshall passed a hand over his face, then grudgingly gave in. "You have my cell number. If Rose wants me back in for any reason once the nurse has finished changing the dressing, call me. We won't be far away."

Orin nodded and assured him, "She'll be fine, I promise."

With a final tug on his arm from Mary, he fell into step beside her and headed for the elevator.

"You can't stay with her every second," Mary chided gently. "It's too nerve-wracking. You need a break now and then. You have to let someone else take over for a bit."

"The pain is getting more and more intense," Marshall countered. "I want to be there in case there's something, _anything_, I can do to help."

"At this point there isn't much of anything anyone can do," she reminded him. "And making yourself crazy with worry certainly isn't helping. Another hour and a half and she'll be on the stand. David promised he'd do everything he could to make sure Cole kept the cross short, so hopefully we'll be out of the courtroom within fifteen minutes. She just has to hang in there a little while longer."

"An hour and a half may seem like only a little while to us, but it's going to seem a whole lot longer to Jess," he pointed out as he reached to give the "down" button a jab. "What time is the escort due to arrive?"

"At 1:45," Mary answered. "That should give us just enough time to get there and walk right into the courtroom. David will call us when we're en route in the unlikely event that she isn't going to testify. In that case, we'll change direction and head straight for the airport."

Entering the elevator, he asked, "How many escort vehicles are we going to have?"

"Only one from here. Orin and I think that the less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. We'll pick the others up from various points along the way where they will be covering intersections where we might run into trouble. The local police are setting up unmarked vehicles around the court building."

"And when we leave?"

"Everyone and his uncle will be waiting to see us safely out of town," Mary replied as they exited. "The Feds are even setting up snipers on the roofs of surrounding buildings. The element of surprise, given that no one will be expecting her to testify today, should help us there."

"What about our flight plan?"

"It's been taken care of. I saw to it myself. All of our bases are covered, Marshall. We're going to get through this just fine."

He let out a tense sigh and shook his head as they neared the door of the doctor's office. "Today, I'm with Jess: I wish real life had a fast-forward button."

***"Are you all right? Do you want me to help you back into bed so you can lie down until it's time to go?" Mary questioned as she held on to Jessica's shaky arm.

"No, I'd rather sit in the chair. It shouldn't be much longer, should it?"

"No more than ten minutes," Mary replied, helping her as she carefully sat back, then handing her an ice pack. Turning to where her own suitcase was open on the opposite bed, she added, "My jacket will be big enough on you that it will keep your shoulder hidden from curious eyes. When we get to the court building, I'll help you take it off."

"You don't want me to keep it on? Mine won't fit over the bandaging. My blouse barely fits."

Mary returned to stand beside her and shook her head with a slight smile. "Since you insisted on getting yourself shot, you may as well use it to your advantage. Because we haven't been able to link the man who shot you to the defendants, David can't legally bring it up in court. So we're going to let the jury see your shoulder, and see you in a wheelchair, and allow them to come to their own conclusions."

"All right," Jessica responded, readjusting her position restlessly.

"The nurse gave me two more ice packs to take along. While we're wheeling you out to the truck, though, I'd prefer that you didn't use one if at all possible. We don't want to draw any more attention than necessary." Retrieving a pair of pumps from Jessica's suitcase, Mary crouched down and helped her slip them on. "The truck will be waiting outside the door where they deliver freight. Orin is clearing the corridors so we shouldn't run into too many people between here and there." Looking up, she huffed out a breath and placed the back of her hand against Jessica's cheek. "Geez, Jess, I don't think I've ever seen anyone that still had a heartbeat look so pale. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," she nodded. "I'll be all right. It really isn't that bad."

"You don't do the whole lying thing very well, do you?" Mary queried lightly. "I sent Marshall to round up a wheelchair while I was helping you get dressed. I imagine he's been waiting outside the door, on the verge of having a stroke, for about fifteen minutes now. Think we should let him in?"

Jessica did her best to give Mary a smile. "We probably should."

***"I thought Cole was going to pop a vein," David noted, standing with Mary and Marshall outside one of the court conference rooms while Orin kept Jessica company beyond the glass. "He clearly didn't expect Rose to take the stand. He practically stood on his head to get the judge to disallow it, but there was nothing he could do. I worded things very carefully yesterday to leave us open to that possibility. He isn't the only one who knows how to manipulate the system."

"Are his clients going to have the opportunity to set up an ambush while we're waiting for the jury to be brought in?" Mary asked with concern.

"I don't think so. The afternoon prison bus was late in arriving and the prisoners are still going through security, so Cole hasn't been alone with his clients yet. By the time he tells them, we'll be called in." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which… I'd like to have a quick word alone with Rose before that happens."

Marshall's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

David held up his hand and assured him, "I just want to thank her for all she's done. Once she leaves the stand I won't have the opportunity since I'm going to object to Cole's inevitable request for a recess while you're rushing Rose out of here." Glancing past them at an approaching figure, he added, "And besides, here's the F.B.I. agent who's going to act as Rose's double, as per your request, Mary. I think we found someone who will meet with your approval. I'll go send Orin out so he can introduce you."

***Mary looked the young woman standing in front of her up and down, nodding slowly. "You're the right size and build, right hair color. I think we can make it work, Ariel, as long as you keep your head down so no one gets a good look at your face."

"My cap will help hide her face when we leave if she pulls it down a little," the other woman offered, adjusting the official F.B.I. cap she was wearing. "So you want me to enter the courtroom with her?"

"In between Mary and Marshall. We want you to push the wheelchair," Orin explained. "That way everyone will see you and suspicions won't be aroused when we all leave together."

"We'll make the change in the restroom before we head out," Mary continued. "It will need to be done as quickly as humanly possible. Once we get to the escort vehicles, you'll go with Orin and several other agents to make it look as though you're the focus of attention and protection, and Marshall and I will take Rose with us. Hopefully that will give us time to get out of town before anyone is the wiser."

Marshall took Mary by the elbow. "Come on. The court officer just went to notify David that they're ready to begin. Let's get this over with so we can get the hell out of this God-forsaken place."

***David's chair scraped against the floor noisily as he stood and demanded, "Your Honor, how long is defense counsel going to drag this out? This is the third time I've objected to the fact that Mr. Cole is unnecessarily rehashing previously answered questions!"

"On the contrary," Cole argued, holding out his hands in seeming innocence. "I'm simply doing as the prosecution suggested and picking up where I left off with this witness three days ago. I'm asking the same questions I've had for her all along."

"Questions already asked and answered, despite the clever rewording," David pointed out. "The witness clearly is in no shape for Mr. Cole's redundancy."

"Mr. McArthur was the one who assured us this witness was in adequate shape to answer questions today. Is he now saying that isn't true?" the defense attorney asked, turning to look challengingly at David.

"She has thoroughly fulfilled that obligation," David countered.

The judge held up his hand. "Enough, both of you. Mr. McArthur, as I told you before, defense counsel is due a little latitude here given the two day interruption of proceedings. But I agree, Mr. Cole, that your last several questions were a revisiting of previously settled issues. Do you have any new lines of inquiry for this witness or is your cross-examination complete?"

"If I may be allowed, Your Honor, the validity of my questions…" he began.

"That's what I thought," the judge interrupted. "Since you don't seem to be able to make the decision, I'm making it for you and excusing the witness." Turning to the witness box he added, "You may step down, Mrs. Lawrence."

As Mary and Ariel came forward to help Jessica back into the wheelchair, the defense attorney addressed the court. "Your Honor, I'd like to ask for a brief recess at this time in order to confer with my clients."

The judge nodded his acceptance, but as per procedure asked, "Does the prosecution have any objections?"

David stood immediately as the group headed out of the courtroom. "Yes, I do. Defense raised some serious issues with my witness, challenging her credibility. I intend to present testimony that corroborates the statements she made to this court. Given the late start this afternoon, I feel it's important to continue without interruption so that my next witnesses' testimony can be heard in its entirety before we break for the weekend…"

***Mary held the door to the restroom open to allow Ariel to push the wheelchair through. "Let's make this fast. We were in the courtroom a lot longer than we should've been so we're already behind schedule. We need to get out of here in the next few minutes, before the defendants have the chance to give the alert." She frowned as Jessica immediately stood and headed into the far stall as soon as the wheelchair came to a stop. When she heard the sound of retching, her eyes widened.

"Is she all right?" the other woman asked quietly. "Is there anything we can do?"

Without answering her, Mary made her way to the stall door and cautiously pushed it open. "Rose? Are you okay?" Upon seeing her huddled in front of the toilet, holding her shoulder with the opposite hand, Mary quickly crouched beside her and put an arm around her. "Ariel, go get Marshall!" she commanded.

As the agent left to comply, Mary addressed Jessica softly. "Come on, sit back," she advised, helping her witness ease to the side so that she could sit on the floor with her back against the wall.

"I'm sorry," Jessica offered as she closed her eyes. "I know we need to leave. Just give me a minute and I'll be all right."

"You don't need to worry about that. We'll get out of here soon enough." Mary pushed her damp hair back from her face, drained of what little color had remained. "You held it together so well on the stand, I had no idea it was this bad."

"I didn't think I was going to make it," Jessica confessed.

"But you did, and now it's finally behind you," Mary reminded her. When she heard the restroom door open, she called, "In here." A second later she looked up at her partner as his eyes settled on Jessica.

"Oh, Geez!" he breathed, dropping to a knee beside them.

He was already reaching into the deep pocket of his jacket when Mary said, "We can't wait until we're on our way. She needs something now just to make it out of the building."

With a nod, he continued pulling out the vials and syringes the doctor had supplied them with. "I'll take care of this. Go tell Orin what's going on."

Putting a hand on his arm, Mary asked, "Are you sure you want to do this? I can handle it if you'd rather not."

His eyes met hers briefly as he assured her, "I'm fine. Let the others know we need a few extra minutes."

Mary squeezed Jessica's hand. "Hang in there. We're going to take care of you."

With a slight nod from her witness, Mary stepped around her partner and headed out to the hallway.

Marshall tried to keep his tone of voice light, as much to relieve his own tension as Jessica's, while he began to loop a rubber tie around her arm. "Your doctor sent meds with us once he knew we wouldn't be returning to the hospital. I'm sure you'd prefer to have this done by someone better trained and more experienced, but you're stuck with me … no pun intended." Filling a syringe part way, he added, "In case you're wondering, I have done this before. I'll try to be really careful."

She looked up at him with pain-filled eyes and shook her head. "Trust me, the last thing I'm concerned with at the moment is that you're going to hurt me, Marshall. I just want you to get me to a point where I can walk out of here."

"We'll be on our way in a few minutes, I promise." Tearing open an alcohol swab, he began disinfecting a spot just below the tie. His hand shook ever so slightly as he paused with the syringe only a hairsbreadth away from her skin and wondered why he hadn't allowed Mary to take care of the task after all. "You should start feeling better in a couple of minutes," he told her, trying to sound reassuring as he carefully pushed the needle into her vein.

When Jessica made absolutely no sound or the slightest movement, he let out a relieved breath, sure that his touch had been light enough that he hadn't caused her any additional pain. But when he glanced up at her face, he saw that her eyes were tightly closed and her bottom lip was pinched between her teeth.

"Are you all right?" he quickly asked. "Am I hurting you?"

"It's okay," she replied, "but I need you to hurry. I'm going to throw up again."

"Hold on, we're almost there," he encouraged, quickly injecting the remaining liquid and removing the syringe from her arm.

Jessica turned immediately and leaned over the toilet, dry heaving since there was nothing in her stomach. Marshall got up to wet a paper towel and then knelt beside her, holding her hair back. When she sat up a little straighter, he gently blotted her face with the towel. "Tell me as soon as you think you can manage it and I'll give you something to settle your stomach."

After a few seconds, once she had caught her breath, she nodded and he helped her sit back against the wall again. Repeating the same process as before, he noted, "This was easier when you had an IV and everything could be injected through it. I'm sorry I have to stick you again."

"That's all right. I'll take this over going back to the hospital any day."

As he pierced her vein for a second time, he explained, "I have to inject this medication more slowly. The doctor told us that even though it's diluted, it burns like fire going in. That will last for only a few seconds, though. It's also going to most likely make you dizzy."

Letting out a whimper, Jessica responded through clenched teeth, "He wasn't lying about the burning part."

After finally removing the syringe and carefully taping a piece of gauze to her punctured arm, Marshall sat back and looked up. Jessica's eyes were closed but a tear had escaped and was sliding down her cheek. Swallowing hard, he gently brushed her cheek with his fingertips. When she opened her eyes, he shook his head remorsefully. "I'm so sorry, Jess, for all of it, for you still being here, for the pain you've been through, and especially for the fact that you were shot."

"Don't be sorry, Marshall – I'm not," she assured him, putting her hand on his knee. "You were right, about getting closure. As bad as I felt, when I stood up to leave the courtroom it was as if a giant weight had been lifted from me. Whatever happens to the men who attacked my family is out of my hands now. Whether they're punished by this court or by another, maybe higher, authority is no longer my concern. It's enough for me to know that what they did is finally a matter of public record, available for everyone to see. And I know what I did was the right thing for my child. For that reason alone it was all worth it."

Before he could respond, the restroom door opened and footsteps approached. When they looked up, Mary came to a stop beside them.

"How are we doing?" she asked.

Jessica nodded slowly. "The pain is beginning to get better."

"Good, because we seriously need to hit the road. Do you think you can stand?"

"I think so," she replied as Marshall put an arm around her and helped her up.

Mary took over from him and guided Jessica to a spot near the row of sinks. Looking to her left where Ariel was waiting, she gave her a nod. "Let's get the two of you changed."

As Ariel ducked into a stall, Mary noted, "It's a good thing you're both wearing white shirts so you won't have to exchange those. Yours is soaked, Jess." As her witness suddenly wavered, she grabbed her around the waist. "Whoa! Don't pass out on me yet. Marshall?" When her partner didn't immediately appear, she looked over her shoulder just in time to see the restroom door close. "Marshall!"

He poked his head back in the door. "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Mary demanded, trying to keep her from collapsing onto the floor. "I could use a little help here!"

He quickly moved to take hold of Jessica. "I've got her," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Jessica leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes.

"Damn! How much morphine did you give her?" Mary asked with annoyance. "She's almost out already!"

"I gave her three milligrams, which is exactly what the doctor said to give her if we wanted her to still be ambulatory," he replied.

She rolled her eyes as she bent to remove Jessica's shoes. "Ambulatory? Can't you just say, 'and still be able to walk,' like a normal person? Where were you going, anyway?"

"I was going to wait out in the hallway, to give everyone some privacy."

Turning Jessica's skirt around so she could unzip it, she muttered, "A fine time to suddenly be shy. Geez, you would think you had never seen her without clothes before." Glancing up at him, she did a double take at the look on his face. "Oh my God! You haven't seen her without clothes before!" she declared incredulously.

"I really don't think that's any of your business," he said in a hushed voice.

Mary grabbed the slacks Ariel had hung over the top of the stall door and left Jessica's skirt in their place. "What is wrong with you two? Do I need to get you 'Sex for Dummies', or what?"

Giving her a pointed look as she bent down again, he suggested, "Can we just drop this? We have more important issues to deal with at the moment."

"Whatever you say," she agreed, smiling at his discomfort and buttoning the slacks on Jessica. Looking over her shoulder as Ariel emerged, she said, "I need your shoes, jacket, and cap, then I think we'll be ready."

Once the exchange was complete, with Jessica's hair in a ponytail sticking through the opening in the back of the cap, Marshall turned her to face him and placed his palm against her cheek. "Hey, you have to stay with us for a few more minutes," he told her gently. "We need you to walk out of here, all right?"

Jessica blinked groggily. "All right."

"You're going to push the wheelchair, remember? That way you'll have something to hold on to."

She nodded slowly. "I remember."

Looking at the other two, he asked, "Are we ready?"

Ariel settled into the wheelchair, adjusted the extra padding on her right shoulder under her blouse, and replied, "Ready."

"Keep your head down," Mary reminded her as Marshall guided Jessica to the wheelchair and then reluctantly let go of her.

"Can you do this?" he asked, scrutinizing her carefully.

"I'll be fine," Jessica nodded as she started for the door Mary was holding open.

Once they were out in the hallway, they were surrounded by the agents who were waiting to escort them. Marshall stuck close and kept a watchful eye on Jessica, alert to any sign of difficulty. But other than walking at a slightly slower pace than normal, she was able to make it out of the building and to the row of SUV's parked in front without incident. As several others converged on the wheelchair and helped Ariel into one of the trucks in the middle of the convoy, Mary and Marshall quickly headed with Jessica for the truck at the rear. Within seconds they were settled and on their way, with Mary choosing to sit in front with the driver and Marshall occupying the back seat with their witness.

Marshall looked over to find Jessica's head back and her eyes already closed. He reached for her left arm and tugged at her sleeve. When she turned to look at him, he patted his leg. Without further invitation she slid down and rested her head on his thigh.

"Can I go to sleep now?" she asked.

He carefully removed the cap from her head and smoothed her hair back. "You can go to sleep now," he assured her quietly.

***Fifteen minutes into the trip, Marshall did a double take when he looked out of the window of the SUV. He leaned forward just in time to see the rear of the escort vehicle in front of them disappear around a curve. "Where are we going, Mare?" he asked with concern. "This isn't the way to the Lancaster airport."

Looking over her shoulder, she answered, "I know. We aren't going to Lancaster. We're flying out of Harrisburg International."

"Harrisburg International? Where James was passing drugs for the very cartel that tried to kill our witness? Are you out of your mind?"

"Keep your shirt on," she retorted. "I told you, I have everything under control. I know what I'm doing."

"Did you forget the part where David told us we had to avoid that airport at all costs? It isn't safe to go anywhere near there, especially considering that the rest of our escort just took the exit heading to Lancaster!"

"David is the one who helped me arrange it. Just sit back and relax," she advised. "We'll be there in a few more minutes."

***Mary's eyes followed the direction of Marshall's gaze, to where her witness lay sleeping. "The doctor said keeping her hydrated is going to be an issue since she doesn't have an IV anymore. How are we going to manage that when she's out like this?"

"He said she'll be all right for three or four hours," Marshall replied.

"It's been right at three since we left the hospital. She hasn't had anything to drink since, and she threw up. That can't help."

"If she doesn't wake up on her own in another few minutes, I'll wake her and give her some ice chips," he decided. "But she was in such bad shape, I want to let her sleep as much as possible."

Mary leaned her head back against the plane seat. "Mmm, sleep … I am so looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. Nothing beats the feeling of coming home off of a road trip and crawling between familiar sheets."

"I certainly can't argue with you there. I'll have to wait on that, though. I plan to stay at Jess' for the next few days. She can't be left alone until she gets back on her feet."

Turning to give him a curious look, she asked, "So why aren't the sheets at Jessica's familiar to you yet? Why haven't you slept with her?"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that," he reminded her, avoiding her intense eyes.

"Of course we're going to talk about it. What could possibly make you think we wouldn't?"

"Maybe the fact that it's a very private matter, just between Jess and myself, and doesn't concern you."

She let out a derisive laugh. "Yeah, right!"

Shaking his head, he noted, "Of course – what was I thinking? Everyone knows you have no sense of personal boundaries."

"Like that's any big surprise," she pointed out. "So fess up. Why haven't the two of you taken the plunge yet, so to speak?"

Glancing at her, and knowing it was one of those times it was pointless to deny her, he admitted, "I suggested it but she said she needed more time."

"More time for what? I mean, it's obvious she has feelings for you. What's holding her back?"

After looking over to see that Jessica was still sound asleep, he turned and explained in a more subdued tone, "You know how hard it is for her, the lying part. She's a scrupulously honest person and having to make things up goes against her very nature. She told me she had decided from the start of this that she would remain alone, so she wouldn't have to lie to someone she cared about, someone who would expect her to be honest about her past. Once we started seeing each other, she said it was going to take a while to change how she felt, about remaining alone, and get used to the thought of being with someone again."

Mary regarded him thoughtfully, contemplating what he had said. "How long ago did this happen? When did she tell you that?"

He gave her a shrug and said even more quietly, "Right before you were shot."

"That was over two months ago. Haven't you made a 'suggestion' since then?"

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he responded, "The time has never seemed right. Either I was dealing with what happened to you and trying to find the low-life who shot you, or we were dealing with her break-in, or preparing for the trial. There's been so much going on, we haven't had time to … to focus on the two of us. And I didn't want to screw things up by taking us somewhere she wasn't ready to go yet. When the time finally comes, I want it to be right, to be special, and for the right reasons, not just as an emotional reaction to the chaos or stresses going on around us at any given moment."

He glanced at her side-ways, preparing himself for the ridicule and sarcasm that was sure to follow. Instead, Mary studied him with a look that was anything but mocking.

"And is that the only reason you haven't slept with her?"

"What do you mean?" he queried guardedly.

"When I first found out about the two of you, I asked you if you were in love with her. You told me it was too soon in the relationship to know. I'm just wondering if that was the truth, that it was too soon, I mean. Or maybe there's something else, something that's holding _you_ back."

Avoiding her eyes again, he said, "I told you, there's been a lot going on in our lives. It takes time and the right circumstances to figure something like that out. And besides, I don't know how she really feels about me. That has to be taken into account as well."

Mary huffed out a breath. "I didn't think she could be any more obvious in making her feelings for you known."

He looked at her in surprise. "Why? Did she say something to you?"

"She didn't have to, Marshall. Few things in this world say 'I love you' more than purposely taking a bullet for someone when there's no disability pay attached. Are you really telling me that thought never crossed your mind? Because I seem to remember you agonizing over the fact that you were to blame for her decision when we were waiting for her to come out of surgery."

Shaking his head, he replied, "I dismissed that idea after you told me she said she did it because of Mr. Tucker, that she didn't want anyone else to get hurt or killed as a result of helping her. Isn't that what you said?"

"Yes, I did and she did. But you didn't really buy that, did you?" she asked incredulously. "Seriously?"

"That's what you told me," he insisted. "And I know her. It's like her to feel some sort of moral obligation in a situation like that. On the one hand I wasn't entirely happy that I had to be the recipient of her altruism, but considering the alternative, I am grateful."

The mocking tone was back in Mary's voice and eyes. "It never ceases to amaze me that even the smartest guys can be so clueless about women. Haven't you talked to her about it yourself, about why she stepped in front of you?"

"Well … no … I haven't. Not other than to tell her how sorry I was that she had been shot, and for all the pain she's experienced. But it isn't like we've really had the opportunity to discuss it, since she's been so out of it between the pain killers and lack thereof today."

"The story she made up was just that: a story she made up to try to keep you from getting your ass fired. She did not take a bullet out of a sense of 'moral obligation'. She took a bullet because she has serious feelings for you."

He regarded her skeptically. "I don't see how you can know that for sure."

With a shrug, she advised, "You don't have to take my word for it. Talk with her yourself. You're going to come to the same conclusion."

As a way to change the subject he really didn't want to discuss with her, he brought one up that he knew would distract her – for better or worse. "So what about you? Do you think Raph would've taken a bullet for you when you were still together?"

Turning to focus on picking at a hangnail, she nodded. "Yes, I do."

"And you for him?"

"Sure," she agreed. After a moment's hesitation she added, "The problem was, taking a bullet for him would've been a hell of a lot simpler, and at times more preferable, than sitting down and having a conversation with him about something that mattered."

"Like your future together?" he prompted.

"Yeah," she shrugged, still keeping her eyes focused on her hands. "I've spent my whole life avoiding those kinds of conversations. And then, damn ironically I might add, I found myself with someone who wanted to talk of little else. Just one more major difference between us, I suppose."

"Perhaps. But did you ever consider that maybe you were subconsciously drawn to someone who didn't have the same intimacy issues that you do? Maybe deep down you see the need to be with someone who balances you out in that respect," he suggested gently.

Mary threw her head back in exasperation. "Oh, God. If you don't shut the hell up with that psycho-babble, subconscious crap, I swear I'm going to open that door and throw you off of this plane right here and now."

"And, once again, avoidance rather than reflection is your answer," he declared.

"Yeah, well, let me give you a little dose of your own medicine here, Dr. Phil." Leaning toward him, her eyes grew more intense. "If I'm right about the reason Jess took that bullet, you need to figure out what your feelings are for her, and fast. Because I can guarantee you that she's already figured out what hers are for you."

***Jessica blinked sleepily as she crunched and swallowed the ice Marshall had offered her. "Is there a restroom on this plane?"

"Sure, at the back," he nodded, setting the cup aside.

"Can you help me get to it?"

"Of course," he replied, sliding one arm carefully under her shoulders and another under her knees.

Putting a hand on his chest, she said, "No, Marshall, I don't want you to carry me in front of all these people. Just help me walk back there so I don't stumble and fall on anyone."

Smiling, he assured her, "It's all right. I want to show you something." Gathering her into his arms, he picked her up and turned so that she could see the area behind the seats where she had been lying. "See?"

"What kind of plane is this?" she asked in confusion.

"A private one, with only you, me, Mary, a pilot, and a co-pilot on board. How's that for service?" he questioned proudly as he carried her down the narrow aisle.

"How did you manage that?"

"I didn't," he confessed. "It was all Mary's doing. She convinced David that it was the right thing to do after all you had been through. The U.S. Attorney's Office is picking up the tab."

As he set her down in front of the door, she said, "Remind me to thank everyone."

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked with concern when she swayed slightly.

"I think so," she responded as he opened the door for her. Once she was inside, he closed it and leaned against the opposite wall to wait.

A few minutes later he heard the sound of running water and the door finally opened. But instead of coming out, Jessica stood holding onto the frame, her face as white as a sheet.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately reaching for her.

She shook her head and began turning around. "I'm going to be sick."

"Oh, Geez!" he whispered. Looking toward the front, he called, "Mare?"

Mary stood and quickly made her way to him. "Something wrong?"

"She's throwing up," he replied in alarm.

Her eyes widened. "Is that as bad as I think it is?"

"I only gave her a few ice chips. If she can't keep that down, we don't have any other way to keep her from getting dehydrated."

"What are we going to do?" Mary asked.

After contemplating a moment, he responded, "Stay with her. I'm going to go talk to the pilot about making a phone call."

***"I woke her up to give her some ice and she seemed fine. She started vomiting only a few minutes later and then her pain level seemed to shoot from zero to ten in the span of five minutes."

"How long was it after you left here that you gave her any meds?" the doctor asked.

"Longer than we expected, about an hour and a half," Marshall answered into his phone.

"It was too long. Once the pain takes hold, it's much more difficult to bring under control. Was she vomiting before you gave her medication?"

"Yes, but it stopped right after."

"How much morphine have you given her?"

"Three milligrams, and a dose of Phenergan with it. She went to sleep a few minutes later and slept for almost two hours until I woke her."

"She needs another dose of both meds," the doctor insisted. "With the vomiting, she's probably at the very least moderately dehydrated. It isn't going to be easy to find a vein, but doing so is crucial for the medications I sent with you. As soon as they begin to take effect and she can keep it down, you need to get her to drink at least eight ounces of water, with a minimum of four more every hour afterwards. You'll have to wake her, but it's important. If you can't get her to wake up, then you need to take her to the nearest hospital immediately. You have to keep her from getting severely dehydrated so she doesn't go into shock."

"How will we know if she is getting to that point?" Marshall asked, glancing toward the back of the plane.

"You'll know. Being dehydrated is a miserable feeling. Even after the meds take effect, she'll be extremely uncomfortable and won't be able to sleep. Her heart rate will be up, she'll be disoriented, and too dizzy to stand."

"How much of each medication should I give her?"

"Giver her a regular dose of the Phenergan and four more milligrams of morphine."

"Did you say four milligrams?" Marshall questioned. "I thought you said she shouldn't have more than five total in her system at any given time. She's already had three."

"Because she went so long without meds, what was in her system has already dissipated considerably. Four more won't be too much. Just check her breathing every ten minutes or so for the first hour. If it becomes too slow or shallow, take her to an emergency room."

"All right," Marshall agreed with a worried sigh.

"Once you get to wherever it is you're going, I'll need to call in a couple of prescriptions for her. You can't continue to inject her. Preferably before the doses you're going to give her now wear off, you'll need to start her on oral meds. I'll prescribe the oral version of the Promethazine and Hydrocodone for the pain. Can you get me the number of a pharmacy you'll be using?"

"Actually, there's a central number I'll give you for that. The information will then be relayed to a specific location," he explained.

"That's fine. You can text the number to me and I'll call it in right away."

"Thank you, Doctor. I really appreciate your help."

"That's what I'm here for. Feel free to call back if you have any more questions or problems."

"I will, thanks."

"Look, Marshall, if you and Mary are uncomfortable with any of this, I advise you to take Sara to a hospital and have her admitted. Realistically, she could use about three more days of professional care. However, if the two of you feel sure you can handle my instructions and keep a close eye on our patient, then she should be fine at home."

"I'll keep that in mind. We'll play it by ear and see how she does. If we have the slightest doubt, we'll take her in."

"You do that," the doctor replied. "Just make sure she sees her regular doctor on Monday so her incision can be checked. If her doctor has questions after reviewing the information I sent, you can pass my number along."

"Thanks again, Doc. Hopefully you won't be hearing from us anymore."

Marshall snapped his phone closed and pocketed it as he made his way to the back of the plane. Stopping in the open doorway of the small lavatory, he motioned to his partner. "I need to get in there."

Mary stood from where she was crouching beside Jessica. As she passed Marshall, she took hold of his arm and pulled him back from the door slightly. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "What did the doctor say?"

Equally quietly, he answered, "He told me to give her more medication and then get her to drink something as soon as it takes effect."

She shook her head. "It's worse this time than it was after she finished testifying. I think we need to consider having the pilot set down in the nearest city so we can take her to a hospital."

"Once I give her the meds, she'll be all right," he insisted, starting to brush past her.

Stepping in front of him to block his way, she noted, "I know you feel responsible for her getting shot, Marshall, and I know you want to be the one to take care of her as a result, but I think we're in over our heads here. Don't let your guilt get in the way of doing what's in her best interest."

He paused for a second, then continued into the small enclosure. Wetting a paper towel, he knelt beside Jessica as he had done before. "How are you doing?" he asked, placing the paper towel against her forehead.

"I've been better," she replied in a shaky voice.

"I spoke to your doctor and he said I can give you more meds. I want to take you back to the seats so you can lie down, though."

"I'm not sure I can keep from throwing up, yet."

"Even private planes have barf bags," he pointed out with a slight smile. "Come on. I'll help you."

Putting his arms around her, he helped her stand and then backed out of the tight space with her. Once he was clear of the doorway, he swung her up and returned to the seating area, with Mary following close behind. After carefully placing Jessica on the seats she had previously occupied, he began pulling medication out of his pockets again. He had already cinched the tie around her arm when he noticed that her breaths were coming quicker than normal. With a frown, he put his hand on her cheek, stroking it with his thumb but letting his fingertips rest against her jugular. The pulse under his fingers was faster than normal, too, and he looked up at Mary worriedly. "Why don't you go ask the pilot where we are?" he suggested quietly.

Once she had gone, he addressed Jessica softly. "Hey." When she opened her eyes and looked at him, he said, "I need to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

"I know how much you don't want to go to a hospital but I need you to seriously consider allowing us to take you to one."

"I don't need to go to a hospital. I'll be all right," she quickly assured him.

"Don't dismiss this so lightly," he cautioned. "I'm more than willing to take care of you but I know my limitations, Jess, and I think I may have reached them. Although Mary and I have had some training, we're by no means qualified to make medical decisions for you. I need you to tell me if you have the slightest indication that you need professional help. Your doctor thinks you might and so do I. Think carefully about it. This is important."

Jessica studied him seriously, considering his words. "What's wrong? Why do you look so concerned?"

"You can't keep anything down, not even ice. Without the IV you're getting dehydrated. If it continues, it will lead to some very serious complications."

"That's just the way I am. I have an irritable stomach. It's nothing to be so worried about. Any time I'm in any kind of real pain, I throw up. I've been that way my whole life," she pointed out.

"This time, it's serious," he insisted. "This time you might need to be in a hospital."

"I promise, I'll tell you if I need you to take me, Marshall."

"Even if you just think you might, you have to tell me right away. Best case scenario, it will take the pilot a few minutes to gain clearance, then more time to land, get you off of the plane, and to a hospital."

She closed her eyes and nodded again. "I'll tell you."

"And you're sure you don't feel you need to go now?"

"No, I don't. I'll be fine," she repeated.

With an unsatisfied sigh, he continued filling a syringe. Mary returned and reported, "The pilot said we're still three hours out of Albuquerque, near St. Louis. Do you want me to tell him to detour?"

He scrutinized Jessica's arm, tapping it gently, waiting for the desired vein to engorge. "Not yet. Let's see how she does after the meds."

"What's wrong?" Mary asked.

"Her veins are small to begin with and they're shrinking with the loss of fluids," he explained. "I need one to stand out clearly so I don't go all the way through it by accident."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head as he began disinfecting her arm. "I've got it now." When he finally pricked her skin, Jessica flinched slightly. "Be still, Jess," he quickly told her. "Don't move yet."

Mary reached over the back of the seats and took her opposite hand. "He's almost done."

After he removed the syringe, he slowly released the tourniquet. "We'll give it a minute before the next one." Smoothing her hair back, he asked, "Are you all right?"

Jessica nodded without opening her eyes. "I am."

A few seconds later, Marshall repositioned the tourniquet and prepared the second syringe. But after waiting for several long minutes, the veins in Jessica's arm remained barely visible, even as she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"I need you to make a fist," he advised, tapping her forearm more firmly. Finally deciding that it was as good as he was going to get, he cleaned her arm once more. "This is the bad one," he reminded her softly.

Leaning closer, Mary told her, "You can squeeze my hand if you need to."

A second later, Jessica let out a groan and tightened her grip on Mary's hand. Marshall continued to inject the medication slowly, counting silently for the time the doctor had advised.

He had barely removed the syringe when Jessica declared, "I'm going to throw up."

Quickly placing a gauze pad against her arm, he bent it at the elbow to keep pressure on the punctures and leaned close to her. "Listen to me. I want you to lie very still and take deep breaths. The feeling might pass if you can give the medication a few seconds to take effect."

She did as advised, taking in deep, regular breaths. But after a minute they became more irregular, almost frantic, until she shook her head and leaned over the edge of the seats. Marshall was ready with the familiar white bag from the seatback and helped her hold it. When she finally eased back down, he carefully wiped her face with the wetted paper towel Mary handed him.

Jessica opened her eyes and focused on Marshall, taking in his worried expression. Reaching for his hand, she squeezed it and assured him, "It's all right. The pain is better already."

Shaking his head, he entwined his fingers with hers. "You are such a poor liar."

***With a weary sigh, Marshall sat down and leaned his head back, briefly closing his eyes. From the seat beside him, Mary asked, "How is she?"

"Her pulse has slowed somewhat. Now I just have to make sure it doesn't slow too much."

"At least she was able to drink a little water and keep it down. That's some progress."

"It is but she hasn't had nearly as much as the doctor said she needed. I'm going to wake her up in fifteen minutes or so and try again."

"If she had thrown up even one more time, I would've been forced to make an executive decision and tell the pilot to put down somewhere," Mary contended.

"I wouldn't have argued," Marshall assured her. "I was seconds away from making that decision myself."

"Well, we're nearly an hour closer to home than we were when she was last sick. Let's hope the worst is past and we can make it all the way before facing a similar decision."

Closing his eyes again, Marshall whispered, "Amen."

***The first thing Mary noticed when she began to descend the steps onto the tarmac was how good the air of home smelled. The second thing she noticed was the black SUV parked a short distance away and her boss walking toward them. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and stood to the side while Marshall carefully carried Jessica down. Stan reached them just in time to take a suitcase from the copilot.

"Good to have you back," he nodded to his marshals. "How's our witness?"

"We had a scare on the way," Mary reported, pulling both hers and Jessica's bags behind her as they started for the truck. "We thought we might have to detour and take her to a hospital but Marshall got in touch with her doctor and was able to get her through the crisis. I can't tell you how glad we are to be home, though."

"I received a call letting me know she has a couple of prescriptions to be picked up," Stan informed them as he opened the door to the back seat for Marshall. "Should we pick them up on the way or is it something that can be done tomorrow?"

"We need them right away," Marshall answered, lying Jessica on the seat. "She has to start them before what I gave her on the plane wears off."

"All right," Stan agreed, helping Mary place the bags in the back. "We'll pick them up before we head to her apartment."

***Mary watched as Marshall fed her very groggy witness a last pill, then looked from him to where Stan was waiting in the doorway of Jessica's bedroom. "Why don't you guys clear out of here so I can help her change into something more comfortable?"

Marshall nodded and followed Stan out, closing the door behind him. Eyeing his boss somewhat hesitantly, he noted, "I'm going to need a few days so I can stay here and take care of Jess."

"That's fine," Stan agreed. "You and Mary can work on that together. We don't have anything else pending at the moment."

"I suppose you're going to want to discuss the … situation with me at some point," he suggested slowly.

To his surprise, Stan shook his head. "I don't see any point. You know the regulations as well as I do, Marshall. There's nothing I could officially say to you that you don't already know." Slipping his hands into his pockets, he strolled nearer to where his inspector was standing. "Unofficially, from personal experience, I will say that if you are determined to go forward with this relationship, do yourself and her a favor and take things very, very slowly. You've already had a taste of just how complicated these things are. If your relationship should become common knowledge, I guarantee it's going to get a lot more complicated. Just don't let your emotions get in the way of your common sense and cause you to make a decision that one day you'll wake up and realize was a mistake. Bottom line: you've worked far too hard to get where you are to walk away from it for a relationship that might not last anyway."

With a thoughtful nod, Marshall replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

***Marshall raised his head in the night-light illuminated room and looked toward the bed. He could see Jessica stirring and immediately got up to check on her. She opened her eyes as soon as she felt his fingertips against the pulse-point on her wrist.

"Marshall?" she queried sleepily. "Where are we?"

He gave her a smile. "Doesn't this room look familiar?"

She turned her head with a frown and took in her surroundings, then looked back up at him in surprise. "We're home?"

"For about three hours now," he nodded. "Don't you remember me carrying you in, making you drink some water with your medication, and then Mary helping you into your pajamas?"

"No, I don't," she confessed. "I must have really been out of it."

Smoothing her hair back, he said softly, "You were. But you seem better now. Can you drink a little water?"

"In a minute. Will you help me to the bathroom first? I still feel a little too shaky to attempt it on my own."

"I don't want you to even think about trying," he advised sternly, turning on the bedside lamp. He helped her sit up, then placed an arm around her as she stood and slowly walked the few steps across the room.

"I can manage from here," she told him at the doorway.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to fall."

"I'll be all right," she assured him as she continued alone.

He hovered outside the door but was only partially relieved when he heard the sound of water running. Recalling the last time he was in the same situation, he half expected for her to open the door in the same condition.

To his complete relief, Jessica opened the door and stepped out, allowing him to help her back to the bed. Stopping when they reached it, she motioned to a point across the room. "What is that?"

Glancing at where she had indicated, he answered, "That's where I'm sleeping. I want to be near in case you need anything."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and shook her head. "You don't have to sleep on the floor. There's plenty of room for both of us in bed."

"I don't want to take a chance on hurting you," he argued. "If I roll over in the night, I might bump your shoulder."

"You won't hurt me. I don't move around much and I'll lie with my right shoulder away from you." Taking his hand, she added, "Besides, then if I need you, I can just reach for you."

Allowing himself to be persuaded by the feeling of her hand clutching his, he finally nodded. "All right. But first you need to drink some water."

Once she had taken several sips from the water bottle he offered, he helped her settle back and pulled up the covers, then turned off the lamp. Making his way to the other side, he cautiously eased into bed, trying to keep movement to a minimum. He lied on his side and tucked one arm under the pillow, alert to any sign of discomfort on her part.

After a moment, Jessica turned her head in his direction and reached for his hand again, entwining her fingers with his. "Thank you, Marshall, for taking care of me on the plane and for staying here with me," she said softly. "I know you weren't entirely comfortable with all you had to do, but without your help I'd be in a hospital somewhere right now. You don't know how much it means to me to be home."

He carefully propped himself up on one elbow and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "I was only keeping the promise I made to you, to get us all home safely. Taking care of you was the very least I could do to see that through."

Nodding sleepily as he eased back down, she noted, "Once again, you've gone above and beyond."

Reaching out to lay his palm against her cheek, he whispered, "Not this time, Jess. This time that's all on you."


	11. Chapter 11

**In Plain Sight**

**Rose, By Any Other Name**

Chapter 11

"What did the doctor say?" Mary queried into her phone as she removed her shoes and stretched out on her sofa.

"He said everything looks good. She has more healing to do before she starts any therapy, though," Marshall answered. "Jess asked him about cutting back on the meds since she hates feeling so out of it all the time. Like you, she doesn't have a dependant bone in her body. The doctor changed her prescriptions and said we can start stretching it out a little longer between doses."

"Tell her to take it from me and not go crazy with that just yet. She needs pain-free rest to heal and get her strength back."

"I'm keeping a close eye on her to make sure she stays comfortable and takes it easy. I made a big pot of soup with the groceries you brought over Saturday and she's been having a cup of that every now and then. Getting back on somewhat solid food is helping."

"You should be making her steak and potatoes," Mary advised. "When I helped her get ready this morning for her doctor's appointment, she looked as though she's lost ten pounds in the last week, and she couldn't afford to lose even one. She's just skin and bones."

"She hasn't felt like having much of anything but soup yet. I'll add more substantial foods when she asks for it but I don't want to aggravate her stomach again. By the way, thanks for staying with her this morning and letting me run to my apartment to check things out and pick up my mail. In the rush to get ready for her appointment, I forgot to tell you that when I returned."

"No problem. I feel like I should be giving you more of a break, like staying with her overnight. You know all you have to do is give the word, right? I mean, it isn't like there's exactly a party going on over here to keep me occupied."

"I'm fine where I am," he assured her. "And you know you can always come over and hang out with me. With Jess sleeping so much, it's been pretty quiet here, too," he pointed out.

"I might stop by sometime tomorrow. Since I used getting Jess to the doctor as an excuse to take today off and run some errands, I'm going to head to the office in the morning and see what's going on there. Maybe I'll surprise you and bring you something for lunch."

"You buying me lunch? That would be a surprise," he noted dryly.

"Which should give you some indication of just how bored I am," she retorted. "I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how things look."

***"I did suggest that she give it at least a few more days," Stan insisted as he focused on the street in front of them. "But she's flying to the west coast and then back to D.C. by the weekend, and wants to incorporate us into her trip. I couldn't talk her out of it."

"Why does she have to come at all? Her last fiasco of a visit is still etched so vividly on my mind," Mary grumbled from the passenger seat of the SUV. "I'm sure she's read our reports by now. I don't see what purpose she could have for putting in a personal appearance. She isn't going to get any other answers than what we've already given."

"As district head it's her job to investigate incidents like this, which, I might remind you, are damn rare. It can't be a surprise to you that there would be an investigation."

"I suppose it isn't," she admitted grudgingly. Turning to partially face him, she asked, "Did you explain to her that Jessica isn't some criminal who turned States evidence in order to avoid a prison term? That she's a decent, innocent person who watched her husband and child gunned down in front of her, and despite her loss and the danger, chose to do the right thing and return to testify? She simply wasn't equipped to deal with what we faced. A full-scale gun battle isn't exactly something the average soccer Mom _would_ know how to handle."

"Allison is well aware of her circumstances. All she wants is to hear every side of the story. She has people to answer to the same as we do. I don't agree with her timing, but you can't really blame her."

Shaking her head, Mary looked out of the window. "I just didn't expect anyone to talk to Jess, especially so soon after she was shot."

Glancing over at her, he asked, "Are you worried about what she's going to say?"

"Of course not," she quickly assured him. "But it doesn't seem fair to put her through a bureaucratic interrogation right now when she's already been through so much. I think she's earned a little peace and quiet, don't you?"

"It doesn't matter what we think. This is going to happen. All we can do is inform Jessica, and then stand back and let nature take its course."

"Geez," Mary muttered. "Every time I think we're almost home free with this case, we run into yet another roadblock. I'd give anything for a nice axe-murdering, cocaine-dealing, pension-embezzling witness to occupy my time with right now."

"This isn't a roadblock. More like a minor detour. Once Allison meets with Jessica, hopefully everything will be settled. Things will go back to normal soon enough," Stan pointed out. Turning toward her as they came to a stop at a traffic light, he continued, "Look, Mary, I've wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for the way I reacted when you first called from the hospital in Harrisburg. I know I said some things to you that I shouldn't have in the heat of the moment and I apologize. You're still one of the two best inspectors I've ever had the privilege of working with and I never doubted your abilities for a second. I was simply stressed to the breaking point. Allison was calling every fifteen minutes to see if I had heard anything and I was worried sick that something had happened to you or Marshall. It won't happen again, I promise."

Mary regarded him in surprise, then slowly nodded. "Apology accepted, Stan. I appreciate that." When he returned his attention to the street, she added, "I'd like to promise you that Marshall and I will never put you in that position again, but I think you know that would be a lie."

"Unfortunately, I do. And I would rather you didn't make promises you have no intention of even attempting to keep." After looking out of the window for a moment, he turned back and asked, "Just where do you see this thing with Marshall and Jessica going? Do you think they're serious, or is it simply some sort of transference issue on her part that's gotten out of hand?"

Letting out a weary sigh, she replied, "I don't have any idea. To be perfectly honest, I've been trying really hard _not_ to think about it, hoping I'll wake up one day and find that it was all a bad dream, or at least that they've both come to their senses. I certainly don't want to look too far down the road. Given the circumstances, I can't see it ending well." With a thoughtful shrug, she added, "Then again, this is Marshall, Boy Genius, we're talking about. If anyone can beat the odds, it's him."

"Do you think that if things continue, Jessica will eventually try to drag him out of the Service?"

"No, I don't. She isn't that kind of person. She completely respects what he does," Mary insisted. "I mean, I hate to admit it, and I will have to kill you in your sleep if you ever repeat this, but they're actually very well-suited for one another. They're both genuinely sweet with that cock-eyed optimism that so bugs the hell out of me. They have a sort of innocence, though, so that despite seeing the ugliness around them, they can still ultimately believe the best about people. You know what I mean?"

It was Stan's turn to let out a sigh. "Yeah, I do. And I wish I didn't. I wish at least one of us was thoroughly convinced that the situation is just a temporary phase they're both going through. I'd feel a lot better about the whole thing, then."

***"Come on in," Marshall invited as he stood aside, looking decidedly casual in a tee shirt over his jeans and sporting two day's worth of stubble. "Jess will be right out."

"How is she today?" Stan asked, following as Mary led the way to the kitchen.

"Better, although she gets tired easily. She managed to make some phone calls for work this morning."

"I'm sure it's killing her to not be there," Mary noted while she began unpacking take-out boxes.

Marshall nodded. "It is. By the end of the week, I'm fairly certain I'm going to need to sit on her to keep her here. The doctor said she still needs a full week of rest, though."

"I don't like the sound of that sitting on me business," Jessica said from the doorway behind them. "The doctor is a pessimist. He doesn't know how fast I heal."

Mary smiled as she came toward them, barefoot and wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt. "It's nice to see you upright for a change, and by your own power."

Marshall held out his arm and she came to a stop beside him. "It doesn't last long but it feels good to be out of bed."

"Follow your doctor's advice and don't overdo it," Stan warned. "It will only take that much longer to recuperate otherwise."

With a slightly sheepish look at his boss, Marshall pulled out a barstool with the arm that wasn't encircling Jessica and told her, "Have a seat."

"We brought enchiladas," Mary informed her. "Would you like Marshall to make you a plate?"

"No, thank you," she replied. "My stomach is still a little sore. It smells really good but I'll stick with soup for a while yet."

"I'll warm you some," Marshall offered as the other two sat down next to Jessica.

"Forgive me if I sound skeptical, but it seems a little odd that the two of you would want to have lunch with both of us today," Jessica pointed out, leaning an elbow on the bar to prop her head up. "Has something happened at the trial in Harrisburg?"

"Not at all. The defense is still putting on their case. It hasn't even gone to the jury yet," Mary assured her in between bites. "We do have something to discuss with you, though."

"What is it?"

Glancing at Mary, Stan took the lead and replied without preliminaries, "Our District U.S. Marshal is going to be in town tomorrow afternoon. She wants to meet with you and ask you some questions about the morning you were shot."

Marshall whirled around from putting a bowl in the microwave and declared, "That's too soon! Jess needs at least a couple of weeks to recover before she's put through something like that!"

"Which is exactly what I explained to Allison," Stan responded. "But she's made up her mind and there was no changing it. You've seen how she is."

"And if we tell her it isn't possible? What is she going to do? She can't force us to make Jess available if doing so would be detrimental to her," Marshall argued. "She should understand by now that the well-being of our witnesses comes first."

"Marshall, it's all right," Jessica told him, holding up her hand. "I don't mind doing this. It's going to happen sooner or later and to be honest, I'd rather get it over with. It won't be any different than going to the doctor's office. I can manage it."

"Actually, she's offered to meet with you right here, Jess, if you aren't up to going out and that's more convenient for you," Stan explained.

"I'd prefer to meet at your offices," Jessica decided. "I think it would feel odd to have her come here."

Setting her soup bowl in front of her, Marshall said, "Well, if you wake up tomorrow and don't feel up to meeting with her at all, you let me know. I'll talk with her and tell her she'll have to schedule it for another time. I'm not going to allow her to force you into doing something you're not ready for."

Jessica shook her head. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

***"There isn't any way she's going to allow us to be with you when she questions you," Mary answered decidedly in response to Jessica's query. "I don't even know if she'll let Stan sit in."

"What kind of person is she? Is she nice?"

Marshall exchanged a warning look with Mary as he pushed the "up" button and the elevator door slid closed. "We haven't told you anything about her because we want you to meet with her without any preconceived notions. But I will say that Allison can be a bit over-bearing. Don't let her intimidate you, though," he advised. "If you get tired, don't hesitate to say so. If she isn't satisfied with what you've told her to that point, then she can come back another time. You shouldn't feel as though you don't have the option to leave. You're doing her a favor by agreeing to this, especially considering that you should still be in bed."

"And you can always say, 'I don't know' if there's a question you'd rather not answer," Mary pointed out. "You aren't under any suspicion here. She's simply gathering facts."

Jessica shook her head and adjusted her right arm in its sling. "The two of you are more nervous than I am. You need to relax. I can handle a few questions. I'm not worried about this in the least."

"We're only worried about you over-doing it," Marshall assured her when the elevator came to a stop.

"How long can it take to explain a sequence of events that were over in the blink of an eye?" Jessica queried as the doors opened.

As soon as they emerged, Stan came forward and opened the security door for them. "Inspectors, Jessica. How are you feeling, Jess?"

"I'm better today. Thanks for asking," she replied.

Holding his hand out as he led the way across the room, he continued, "Allison Pearson, this is our witness, Jessica Larson."

Allison came toward her with a smile. "Hello, Jessica. It's so good to meet you. I'd shake your hand but I can see that would be a little awkward for you at the moment."

Jessica nodded and returned the smile. "It's nice to meet you as well."

"Shall we get started?" Allison suggested, motioning toward the conference room. "I don't want to keep you too long. I know you need your rest after all you've been through."

Once the conference room door closed behind them, Mary nudged Stan's shoulder and asked, "She wouldn't let you join in her little party?"

"She made it very clear that I was not invited," Stan answered.

"Come on. We probably shouldn't continue to stand here and stare at them," Marshall noted. "We should at least attempt to look busy."

Stan let out a sigh. "I hope this goes well."

***"I'm just interested in hearing your version of what happened in the parking garage," Allison assured Jessica. "I've already read Mary and Marshall's account. I simply want another perspective. That's all."

Jessica nodded. "I understand."

"Do you mind if I record our conversation? I want to make sure I get all the facts straight."

"Not at all."

"So tell me what happened when you left the apartment in Harrisburg that morning," Allison prompted, setting the recorder in front of her.

Sitting back in her chair, Jessica explained, "The marshal who had escorted us to the parking garage the morning before called to say that he was running late, and so it was decided that Mary, Marshall and I would just meet him in the garage instead of waiting for him to come up in order to save time."

"That was Orin Nash, correct?"

"Yes, it was."

With a nod, Allison noted, "I've had the pleasure of meeting him. He's a heck of a nice guy."

"Yes, he is. He escorted me to Albuquerque when I first left Harrisburg."

"And do you know why he was running late?"

"Mary said he was returning from checking the route to the court building. I know they were all worried that we might be attacked either driving to or returning from court."

"Mary and Marshall told you that?"

Jessica shrugged her uninjured shoulder. "Not at first. I sort of confronted them the first day after court and insisted that they tell me why they seemed so overly tense."

"What made you believe they were overly tense, that it wasn't simply their normal demeanor while escorting a witness during a trial?"

Giving her a somewhat confused look, she answered, "Because I know them. The two of them thoroughly discussed with me ahead of time what to expect when we returned for trial. It was obvious that there were some added worries when we arrived."

"So what did they tell you about that?"

"They told me they had information about a contract the cartel had put on me. They were taking a lot of extra precautions as a result."

"Did finding out about the contract upset you?"

"I was concerned," Jessica admitted, "but I trusted Mary and Marshall implicitly. They told me they had things under control and I was satisfied to leave it in their hands."

"Really? And what did they tell you to engender this trust?"

Jessica's expression turned confused again. "They didn't have to tell me anything. Over the last year and a half of knowing them, they've completely earned my trust. All they had to do was assure me everything was under control."

"All right," Allison nodded somewhat skeptically. "Did they explain to you exactly what led to Orin arriving at the apartment late that morning?"

"No, they didn't."

"And have they told you since?"

Shaking her head, Jessica replied, "No. Until two days ago I was pretty out of it with painkillers, though. And I haven't discussed any details of what happened in Harrisburg with them since then. To be honest, I don't particularly want to. What went on is upsetting, and not really important to me any longer. What is important to me is that we all made it back alive, and that I've finished testifying so I don't ever have to return."

"So let's talk about that first point, about the miracle of how you all made it out of that garage alive," Allison told her. "You, Marshall, and Mary left the apartment and took the elevator down to the parking garage without incident. What happened then?"

"Marshall was in the lead and he began walking toward the escort vehicles after he checked the area outside of the elevator."

"Where was Mary?" Allison interrupted.

"She was behind me. It was that way wherever we went, with one in front of me and one behind."

"What happened next?"

Jessica wetted her lips nervously as she recalled the events. "Something wasn't right. I could see that there wasn't anyone waiting outside of the truck when we approached, unlike the day before. Then Marshall stopped so fast I almost bumped into him, and he yelled for us to take cover. He pushed me behind a cement pillar at the same time the shooting started." She took a shaky breath before continuing, "The sound was deafening. It seemed like the bullets were coming from all around us. The fire alarm started blaring at almost the same time and the noise was even louder. After a few minutes, Mary asked, 'How many?' and Marshall answered, 'Four'. I didn't know what they were talking about at first, but later I realized they were referring to how many people were shooting at us."

"Where exactly were the two marshals when the shooting began?"

"Mary ducked behind a pillar to my left and a little in front of me, and Marshall was slightly to the left side of the one I was behind."

"You said it seemed that the shooters were all around you. Were the marshals able to see them from their vantage points?"

"I don't think so, not entirely anyway. I realized after a few minutes that the men were using the escort vehicles for cover. They weren't in the open."

"Then how do you think they came to the conclusion about the number of shooters?"

"Well, I would assume it's because they know their jobs and it's important to the job they do to be able to figure things like that out," Jessica noted pointedly.

"All right," Allison agreed with slight amusement. "How long did things go on like that, with the marshals exchanging gunfire with the other men?"

"I'm not sure. It seemed like a long time, but I know it really wasn't. Mary finally told Marshall to cover her and she changed positions, to move to another pillar farther to the left, out of my sight. Marshall was firing to cover her and he must have hit one of the men because he said something like, 'One down'. A few minutes later, Mary said, 'Two down'. After that, by the sound, I was able to tell where the remaining gunfire was coming from. There was one person shooting at as from my right and one from my left. Then Marshall stopped firing for a few seconds, to change … the thing in his gun," she said, searching for the right word.

"The clip? To reload?"

"Yes," Jessica confirmed. "After he did that, he moved from where he had been standing to a point more in front of the pillar instead of to the side. When he did, my line of vision in front of us was no longer blocked and some movement caught my eye. That's when I saw the fifth man begin to stand up."

"Just so I understand, you're saying you saw the man when Marshall stepped from his cover?"

"Yes, I guess that's what I'm saying."

"Where was Mary?"

"She was still to my left, firing at the person toward the front of the row of SUV's."

"What happened next, after you saw the fifth gunman?"

"I took a step forward, to where Marshall had been standing, and I realized that he hadn't seen the man, that he was looking to his right where the other shots were coming from." Looking down, she focused on the table as she continued shakily, "When I saw the man raise his gun, I just sort of reacted. I don't think I even realized I was moving forward. I knew I needed to warn Marshall but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, 'No!'. And then something slammed into my shoulder and all I felt was pain."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Allison noted sympathetically. "You must have been quite frightened. What was going through your head during this whole ordeal, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I was terrified," she agreed in a quiet voice. "It didn't seem like there was any way out of the situation. There was nowhere to go and I knew from the very start of it all that there were more people firing at us than for us. I was afraid we were all going to be killed."

"But you weren't afraid to step in front of Marshall when you saw a man train his gun on him?"

Jessica grew thoughtful, contemplating the question. Finally she responded, "I guess at that moment, my fear for myself wasn't as great as it was for someone else."

"_For Marshall_," Allison stressed. "Why was that?"

"There were a couple of reasons," she answered slowly. "When my family was attacked, there was a man who saw the whole thing and followed the gunmen until the police were able to take over. He was directly responsible for their being caught."

"Mr. Tucker," Allison interrupted. "I'm familiar with the file."

With a nod, she continued, "Afterwards he came to the hospital where I was waiting, to check on me. He was so kind, and kept me company for about an hour while my husband was in surgery. When I found out he had been killed by associates of the men we were to testify against, my brain knew I wasn't responsible for his death, but I still felt somewhat guilty in my heart. He lost his life for people who were strangers, for my family, because he felt helping was the right thing to do. In the seconds I saw that man stand up in the parking garage, I thought of Mr. Tucker and his last moments, of how he must have been worried about his own family. What he did for my family took him from his. And I couldn't let that happen again. I couldn't stand to think of another person's loved ones crying over him because he had lost his life for helping me. I didn't want to have to live with that."

"You said there were a couple of reasons. What's the other?"

Looking her in the eye, Jessica said, "The other reason has to do specifically with Marshall, with how I feel about him as a person. I knew my one life wasn't worth all the others who would've been deprived of his help had he been killed protecting me. The service he and Mary perform is too valuable. I couldn't be responsible for that ending."

Studying her carefully, Allison finally nodded. "All right. I think I have everything I need here. I thank you for agreeing to meet with me and I want to extend my apologies to you for your having been injured, as well as my sympathies for the loss of your family. I also want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for the sake of one of my marshals. If there is anything at all that I can do for you in the future, you let me know."

Giving her a puzzled look, Jessica asked slowly, "So what happens now?"

Allison reached across the table to pat her hand reassuringly. "For you, nothing. You've fulfilled your obligation in testifying. You'll remain safe, within the WITSec program. You don't need to worry about anything."

Jessica regarded her suspiciously. "That isn't what I meant. What about Mary and Marshall? What happens to them?"

"They certainly aren't going to be fired, if that's what you're concerned about," Allison assured her. "All the information on the incident in Harrisburg will be reviewed to determine if there was any wrong-doing on their part, and then a decision will be made as to whether the situation warrants disciplinary action or not. It's nothing for you to concern yourself with, though."

"How could there possibly be disciplinary action against them due to _my_ actions? They weren't responsible for the decision I made. They weren't in the least at fault for anything that happened," she insisted.

"You're probably right," Allison nodded. "But an investigation is necessary anyway. If we can find some way to prevent what happened to you from happening to someone else, then we have an obligation to do so."

"And who makes that determination, as to whether or not they did something wrong?"

"Several experts will be responsible for that decision after all the information is thoroughly considered. Like I said, there probably won't be any action against them. In any case, they'll be treated fairly, I assure you."

"Who are these experts you're referring to? Other marshals? Other inspectors?"

"They will be people familiar with and experienced in law enforcement issues. We have a panel that deals specifically with incidents like this. I'll be part of the decision-making team myself. "

"How long were you an inspector?"

Allison shook her head, trying not to appear as annoyed as she was beginning to feel. "I've never been an inspector before."

"Have you at least escorted witnesses?"

"No, I haven't. I was recently appointed to this position and have only been a marshal for a short time. I haven't had the privilege of holding all the various positions."

Jessica's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Are you saying that you're not a real marshal, that your title is in name only?"

Not bothering any longer to hide her annoyance, Allison replied, "I've had some training. I understand the basics. And I'm very familiar with how the Marshal's Service operates."

"Oh my gosh! You really don't have any idea, do you?" Jessica questioned incredulously.

"No idea about what?"

"About what it really means to be an inspector. About what they do on a day to day basis, all the things their job requires of them. How can you do your job without knowing theirs inside and out? How can you judge their actions?"

"I don't really think I need to justify myself to you," Allison pointed out with both a patronizing smile and tone of voice.

"You don't need to. But you do need to be enlightened, in this case by someone from the other side of the looking glass," Jessica insisted bluntly. "You need to know _all_ the facts before you and your 'expert panel' render a decision."

"I'm sure you mean well, and I appreciate that you want to protect Mary and Marshall, but it really isn't necessary. You've given me plenty of information on the incident in question, and now you should get some rest. We'll handle our end of it."

Jessica leaned forward, her eyes intense. "I've met with you today and answered all of your questions willingly despite not feeling up to it yet because I know how important this is. The least you can do is show me the courtesy of hearing _everything_ that I have to say."

Folding her hands on the table in front of her, Allison nodded condescendingly. "Of course. Go ahead."

"First of all, you need to realize that, like doctors, inspectors are on call day and night, 24/7. But unlike doctors, there are only one or two people on the planet who can cover for each of them. Also unlike doctors, they don't get called in the middle of the night just for the occasional severe injury or birth. Inspectors get called when those under their care get a traffic ticket on their way to work, or when their house is broken into by ordinary burglars, or when they simply get the uneasy feeling that someone is watching them. Because those of us in WITSec don't have to wonder if someone wants to kill us – we know for a fact that it's true. That understandably makes us a little more paranoid than your average neurotic on the street. And we have no one else to turn to. Our inspectors are our only confidants. We're all here due to some traumatic event in our pasts, but we're not allowed to speak of those pasts with any other person in our lives. So they hold our hands, and calm our fears, and listen to our nightmares as many times as we need them to. They give of themselves at a time when we have absolutely nothing to give back, when we've left everything we had, including who we are, far behind us. Then they help us to recognize the very best qualities we possess, sometimes for the first time in our lives, and by their support and example encourage us to build a new life using those qualities as a foundation." Jessica shook her head and added more softly, "Mary and Marshall took me by the hand and pulled me through a time in my life when I didn't think I could go on. _They_ saved _my_ life in Harrisburg by getting all of us out of what looked like a hopeless situation. But that wasn't the first time. They also saved my life on the day I arrived in Albuquerque, when they gave me a life worth saving. And if I had given my life for one of them, we still wouldn't be close to even."

Allison regarded her silently for a moment, then slowly nodded. "I stand corrected, Jessica, and I apologize. You have succeeded in enlightening me. I never really considered things from the perspective of a witness before." With a slight smile, she admitted, "But you aren't the first person who has sat in this office and pointed out that my lack of experience has caused me to make a mistake. I promise you now, though, there will be no disciplinary action against either Mary or Marshall. As far as I'm concerned, they carried out the difficult job they were assigned admirably, and the matter is closed."

***"Geez, what could be taking so long?" Marshall queried, checking his watch yet again. "Jess was due a pain pill twenty minutes ago. She has to be at the very least uncomfortable by now."

With an equally worried expression, Mary noted, "It can't be good that she's been in there this long. Maybe one of us should pull the fire alarm or something."

Marshall stood up behind his desk, focused on two approaching figures. "No need for such drastic measures. Here they are – finally."

Allison smiled at the marshals and placed a hand on Jessica's shoulder. "Mary, Marshall, it's time for you to take our witness home now. She was more than helpful and she's been here long enough."

"Of course," Marshall agreed, coming out from behind his desk.

As Mary grabbed her purse and joined them, Allison nodded to Jessica. "Thank you again for coming in today. And remember what I said: if you need anything, let me know."

"I will, and I appreciate that," Jessica replied.

"Let's get going," Mary quickly suggested, ushering her witness toward the door.

Addressing the marshals, Allison called, "Nice to see the two of you again. I'll be in touch with you soon."

"Have a safe trip back," Marshall advised, holding the door open for the other two.

"Yeah. What Marshall said," Mary added over her shoulder.

As the three waited for the elevator, Mary whispered, "Is she still watching?"

Turning slightly, Marshall nodded and smiled, then confirmed through clenched teeth, "Yes, she is."

When a dinging sound signaled the arrival of the elevator, Mary muttered with relief, "Thank God."

Once they were safely inside and the elevator door separated them from Allison's view, Mary turned to her witness.

"How did it go?"

"Hold on a minute!" Marshall scolded, then turned to Jessica. "How are you feeling? Do you need a pain pill?"

"No, I'm fine," she assured him.

"She's fine, we're fine, everyone is fine," Mary pointed out, then quickly repeated, "So how did it go?"

Jessica shrugged casually. "All right I guess. I mean, she didn't kick me out of the program and she promised at the end that she wouldn't fire either of you, so I have to take that as a good sign."

With a slightly concerned expression, Marshall asked, "Was she thinking of firing one or both of us before that?"

"No," Jessica replied matter-of-factly, then leaned back against the elevator wall. "Why didn't either of you tell me that she isn't a real marshal, just a bureaucrat?"

Exchanging a look with her partner, Mary responded, "You figured that out, huh?"

"There you go, treating me like an idiot again," Jessica pointed out, shaking her head. "It was fairly obvious."

"Like we told you, we didn't want you to go in with preconceived notions," Marshall reminded her. "It was better that you came to your own conclusions."

Letting out a sigh, Jessica closed her eyes. "Well all I can say is that I am very glad that's over with."

***Marshall looked in the rearview mirror and frowned. "Are you all right, Jess? Does your shoulder hurt?"

"A little," she admitted without opening her eyes.

"I brought your pain pills with me. I'll get you one," he responded, slipping the hand that wasn't gripping the steering wheel into his pocket.

"That's all right," Jessica told him. "I can wait a few minutes until we get home."

"Are you sure? You shouldn't go too long. You know it takes longer for the medication to take effect when the pain is more severe," Marshall reminded her.

"I can wait. If I take one now, I might fall asleep."

Huffing out an amused breath, Mary said, "I hate to tell you this, but we have seen you sleep before, quite a lot in the last week and a half as a matter of fact."

"I know," Jessica agreed. "I'm just afraid that if I fall asleep before we get home, the prospect of carrying me up two flights of stairs again might make Marshall shoot me himself."

Mary let out a laugh. "I wouldn't let him do that. I promise."

Moments later they pulled into a parking space in front of Jessica's apartment complex. As Marshall opened the back door of the SUV to help her out, Mary's cell phone began to chime. She glanced at the read-out and then answered, "Hello." Catching Marshall's eye as she listened to the caller, she held up one finger and then turned in the opposite direction. "Say again?" she advised as she began walking away from them.

***"Hey, Stan," Mary said into her phone. "Remember when you told me that if I needed help this week you'd be willing to fill in for Marshall while he's taking care of Jess?"

"Yes, Inspector," he replied curtly.

"'Yes, Inspector'," she repeated mockingly. "Why so formal?" Then she added knowingly, "Ohhh … Is Allison still there?"

"That's correct."

"I'm so sorry for you," she told him somewhat insincerely. "So does that mean you would welcome the chance to run out of the office for an 'emergency' with one of my witnesses?"

"Of course, Inspector. Let me find that information for you." Through his hand that was obviously placed loosely over the phone, she heard him say, "I need to take this in my office, Allison. Help yourself to some coffee if you'd like."

"All right-y then," Mary said. "Here's the scoop: Arlene Cowan just called in a tizzy. It seems her wallet was stolen out of her purse. She was in and out of several shops and doesn't know exactly when or where it happened, though. She isn't one of my favorite witnesses and I really don't feel like dealing with her alone today, so I was hoping you'd meet me and…"

"What did you tell Jessica about Allison?" Stan interrupted at the same time Mary heard his office door close in the background.

"What do you mean? We didn't tell her anything. Why?" she asked in confusion.

"Because Jessica told her off, that's why!"

"What?"

"She gave Allison a piece of her mind and I'm having a difficult time believing that she didn't have some coaching from you," he insisted.

"Stan, I swear, we purposely didn't tell her anything going in – not that it was my idea. Marshall said we shouldn't bias Jess against her, that it would only make her more nervous." With a slightly eager tone, she asked, "So what did she say? What happened?"

"After Allison finished questioning her about the shooting, Jessica asked her what was going to happen to you and Marshall over the incident. When Allison told her there might be disciplinary action taken, Jess wanted to know why, and then who was going to be making the decision. After it became apparent to her that Allison had no experience in the field, Jessica went off on her and told her she didn't have the right to judge you two."

"Oh, Geez!" Mary breathed. "I can't imagine that set well. Jess told us Allison promised not to fire either of us. Is she rethinking that now?"

"You don't understand," he corrected. "Allison isn't angry."

"What? Slow down there, Stan. You're giving me whiplash," she declared. "Why wouldn't she be angry? We all know what a pompous ass she is. I would expect her to be livid at Jess even asking a question."

"Well, she isn't. Instead, she's impressed. Jessica told her what you do, how much it all means to her, and Allison listened. She _really_ listened. And her exact words were, and I quote, 'I came here thinking Mary and Marshall deserved a reprimand. Now what I think they deserve is a commendation.' Unquote."

"Are you serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack," he confirmed. "Allison let me listen to the recording of their conversation. She's going to leave a copy for our files. I'll let you and Marshall listen to it."

"Geez, you never know, huh? Like I say, it's always the quiet ones," she mused.

"Allison is leaving for the airport shortly and I'll be glad to meet you and help with Arlene. We'll talk more about it all then."

***"So what was the phone call about?" Marshall questioned when Mary came in through the front door of Jessica's apartment.

"It's nothing," she answered, waving him off. "Arlene Cowan had her wallet stolen and I'm going to go see what I can do to keep her from having a total meltdown. Stan is going with me. Where's Jess?"

"She's changing clothes." As Mary immediately headed for the bedroom door, Marshall gave her a puzzled look. "Why? What's going on?"

Without responding, Mary knocked briefly. "Jess?" Not waiting for a reply, she opened the door to find her witness struggling to pull a tee shirt on over her head.

"Hold on," she advised and quickly moved to help.

"Thanks," Jessica offered when everything was in place. "I haven't quite mastered that skill one-handed yet."

"What did you say to Allison?"

Looking somewhat confused, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I want to know what went on with you two," Mary insisted.

Jessica shrugged. "She asked me questions and I answered them."

"I'm not talking about that, and you know it. I'm talking about what happened afterwards."

"Oh. That," she responded, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Yeah, that. What did you say to her?"

"I just asked her what she intended to do with the information I had given her, and she said the two of you could possibly be facing a reprimand for what happened in Harrisburg. What I started digging a little about what that entailed, it quickly became obvious that she had absolutely no experience or credentials. And that sort of ticked me off, that she would be judging the two of you when she had no idea what it was like to do your jobs. So I told her a few things I thought she should know." Looking suddenly apprehensive, she asked, "Why? Is she upset? Because after it was all over, she said she appreciated what I had said and promised there would be no action against either of you."

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Marshall demanded from beside them, looking from one to the other.

Mary smiled and put her arm around Jessica's shoulders. "Our little friend here took it upon herself to read Allison Pearson the riot act. And as amazing as that is, equally amazing is the fact that Allison didn't blow her top. As a matter of fact, she told Stan that while she had come here to investigate whether or not we should be reprimanded, she now thinks we deserve commendations." Looking at her witness in admiration, she added, "If I didn't know for a fact that Marshall's mouth had been on yours at some point today, I think I'd kiss you."

"I just said what I thought she needed to hear," Jessica claimed. "It really wasn't that big of a deal."

"When I have the time, I'm going to explain to you why you're wrong," Mary insisted. "But right now, I have to go."

"Call me later and let me know how it goes," Marshall called as she hurried out the door.

***Marshall watched as Jessica cautiously took a bite of soup. "Too hot?" he asked.

"No, it's good," she replied. "Thank you for making it for me. Are you sure you don't want any?"

"It's a little early. I'm not hungry yet. But I thought I'd better feed you now since you look like you're fading fast on me."

With a sigh, she admitted, "I am sort of tired. Doesn't seem to take much for me to get to that point, either."

"You'll get your strength back eventually. You just have to pace yourself and take it easy. Meeting with Allison today really wasn't what you needed," he observed, taking at seat at the bar beside her.

"A necessary evil."

"And one more task you've put behind you," he noted. "So, what exactly did you say to her? She doesn't appear to be the sort of person who's easily impressed. I'm curious as to just what 'reading her the riot act' entailed."

Jessica shrugged. "I'm not really sure I'd categorize her as being impressed. She told me when we sat down that all she wanted was another perspective. And that's what I gave her."

"A perspective that changed her mind from thinking Mary and I should be disciplined to thinking we should be commended. That must have been one hell of a perspective," he pointed out with a smile.

"I think it was just a new one, something she hadn't considered before. She mentioned she was familiar with the way the Marshal's Service operated. But I don't think she realized how much the inspectors under her charge mean to those under _their_ charge."

"And you told her that?"

"Yes, I did," she answered simply. "I told her how much you and Mary do for your witnesses and how much we depend on you. Like I said, it wasn't that big of a deal. I just spoke what was in my heart."

Marshall regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then leaned over to smooch her cheek. What she gave him a slightly surprised look, he queried, "Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?"

"Really? Just because I got a little irritated and spoke my mind? I'll have to try to do that more often, then."

Returning her smile, he said, "I know how intimidating Allison can be. I warned you of that, remember? I'm proud of you for standing up to her anyway, for not letting her simply take what you told her and use it for her own purposes, for questioning the whole process instead. But mostly I'm proud of you for standing up for Mary and me. That went above and beyond the scope of the reason for meeting with Allison in the first place."

"I'm just glad she bought it," Jessica responded softly before taking a sip of tea.

"Bought it?" he asked in confusion. 'What do you mean?"

"I'm glad she believed what I told her about my reasons for stepping in front of you in that parking garage. If she hadn't, nothing else I said would've mattered."

Swallowing hard, he studied her carefully before finally questioning quietly, "So … what was the real reason?"

She turned to give him a puzzled look. "The real reason is that I care for you, very much. You know that."

"Oh, Geez," he whispered, closing his eyes.

When he opened them, Jessica was looking at him wide-eyed. "I sort of had the impression that you felt the same. Was I wrong?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "Of course I feel the same. I just hate when Mary is right about stuff like this. She's going to give me crap forever over it."

With a look of relief, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Mary said that's why you took the bullet. But I didn't believe her."

"Why not?"

"Because I believed what you told her in the hospital, that you felt some sort of moral obligation."

"Moral obligation?" she questioned incredulously. "I told her what I did so that she wouldn't have to lie, so she would have something plausible to tell Stan, and eventually Allison. I said what I did to keep you from getting fired, Marshall, which I thought was a real possibility if someone higher up found out about our relationship."

After contemplating a moment, he reached out and took her hand. "You could've told Mary the truth," he pointed out gently. "She wouldn't have said anything."

"I know." She sighed wearily and admitted, "Maybe I should have. I know she doesn't approve of us. Maybe telling her the truth would've set some of her fears to rest, to prove to her that I do really care for you."

"She already knows that. Trust me." He looked away and closed his eyes, momentarily overcome with realization. "Geez, Jess. When I think of what you did … how close you came…"

She turned on the stool to face him. "I know this is going to sound impossible, but somehow I knew the bullet wasn't going to kill me. I also knew, without a doubt, that it was going to kill you. Even from that distance, I saw it in the gunman's eyes. He knew he had the perfect shot, that it was a done deal. He was that sure that his bullet was going to go through your heart."

"What if you had been wrong?" he questioned intently. "A well-trained marksman can drop a moving target at several times that distance. What if he had adjusted the slight amount it would've taken for the bullet to go through _your_ heart instead? You were his ultimate target."

"It's like I told Allison," she explained matter-of-factly, "if I had given my life for you, we still wouldn't be even, because you and Mary saved my life long before the parking garage in Harrisburg. And that part was completely true."

"How? When did we do that?"

"On the day I came to Albuquerque, when you two gave me the life that saved me. You have no idea how important what you did was to me."

He shook his head. "Jess…" With a frown he reached into his pocket as his phone suddenly rang. Glancing at the read-out, he silenced it and set it on the bar.

"Do you need to get that?" she asked. "I can go in the bedroom if you need to talk about business. I know you can't share those discussions."

"It's just Mary. I'll call her back."

Jessica pushed her empty bowl forward and slid off of the stool. "It's okay. I'll wait in the other room so you can talk with her."

He reached out and took hold of her left arm to stop her. "I don't want to talk to her right now. Right now, the conversation I'm having with you is more important to me," he insisted. "She's my partner. You're the woman I love."

"What?" she asked softly in surprise.

Huffing out a breath when he realized what he had said, he pulled her closer, between his knees. "That's not quite the way I envisioned telling you that," he admitted, slightly irritated with himself. "But it is true."

"You've never … said that before," she pointed out slowly.

"I know. And that was a mistake on my part. I wanted things to be just right, to wait until you had finished testifying so you could put it all behind you and focus on us. When we were in the emergency room, though, right before they knocked you out, I was so angry with myself for having waited. I wanted at that moment to remind you of how I felt because I wanted that to be the last thing you heard before you went under. But I was afraid that if I told you then, for the first time, you might think I only said it out of obligation for what you had just done for me, for saving my life. And that wasn't true at all. I've been in love with you for a long time, Jess, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you a long time ago."

She leaned against his leg and responded quietly, "At least now I know the feeling is mutual."

Putting his arms around her, he replied, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. "If you _really_ want to know, I stepped in front of you in the parking garage because when I saw the gunman stand up, my life without you flashed before my eyes, and I didn't like what I saw. I needed you to come back to Albuquerque with me, alive."

He carefully pulled her closer, mindful of her injury, and let out a sigh as she put her head against his chest. "I don't want to think about how close I came to losing you. I'm just glad it's over for both of us so we can finally leave the past behind and focus on the future."

Pulling back, she looked at him thoughtfully, then gave him a slow smile. "I like the way that sounds, the focusing on the future part." Tentatively leaning forward, she kissed him softly, but didn't resist in the least when he tightened his arms and returned the kiss much more insistently.

Finally breaking it off, Marshall smiled and shook his head. "Judging by that sleepy expression, I think your immediate future includes some extended time with your pillow."

***"Hey," he responded into his phone. "What's up?"

"Not much," Mary replied, "except for the fact that I now have proof Arlene Cowan is certifiable. Her wallet wasn't stolen. She left it at a store. The clerk recognized her immediately when Stan and I back-tracked with her to see if we could figure out what had happened. So now absent-minded owner and wallet have been happily reunited, and I wasted several hours of my life on a witness I'd rather avoid like the plague. What's up with you? Why didn't you take my call earlier?"

"I was helping Jess. She needed to eat something."

"Speaking of which, I can't find a damn thing to eat in this whole house," Mary muttered as she peered into her refrigerator. "I suppose I should think about making a trip to the grocery store."

"Come over and have dinner with me. I haven't eaten yet and there's still plenty of enchiladas left over from lunch yesterday."

"I don't want to intrude on your time with Jess," she noted as she immediately sat down and began putting her boots back on.

"I gave her a pain pill and put her to bed already. She definitely overdid things today. She's out for the night so I'm all by my lonesome. I'll make you a plate and have it ready for you."

As she grabbed her purse and headed for the door, she hedged, "Gee, I don't know… I had such a big night planned. Cocktails, dinner, dancing, maybe a play afterwards… What do you have besides day-old enchiladas to offer?"

"Stop talking and get in your car," he commanded affectionately. "You know they're always better on the second day. And don't ring the bell when you get here."

***"Stan wanted me to come back to the office with him to get a copy of their conversation. He's pretty eager for us to listen to it. I told him I'd pick it up tomorrow, though. I can bring it by if you want to hear it."

Marshall shook his head as he finished a bite of black beans and rice. "I'll listen to it in a few days when I'm back at the office. I already have a good idea what's on it anyway. Jess and I had a long conversation earlier."

"You did, huh? How'd that go?" Mary queried, watching him closely over her glass of tea.

"It went well. Very well, in fact. We finally talked about the whole incident in Harrisburg, what she said to Allison and why – we even talked about you. It was a very productive conversation."

Mary tilted her head to the side. "I was right, wasn't I? About her reasons for what she did? Go on, admit it."

With an exaggerated sigh, he reluctantly replied, "Yes, Mary, you were right. You called it, you hit the nail on the head, you scored a perfect game … shall I go on, or has that sufficiently fed your ego?"

"Oh, we're barely getting started," she pointed out happily. "So she finally told you, in words instead of piercing lead, how she felt. And what did you say?"

"What could I say? I told her I was proud of her for setting Allison straight and for standing up for the two of us. And I pointed out to her how easily she could've been killed for taking the risk she did."

"And?" she prompted.

"And … what?"

"Don't make me drag this out of you," she warned.

"Drag what out of me?" he asked warily, avoiding her eyes.

"If you really want to do this the hard way… What did you tell Jess in response to her telling you she had feelings for you?"

He picked up his glass, then paused just before taking a drink. Closing his eyes, he muttered, "God help me, I know I'm going to regret telling you this … but … I told her that I loved her."

Mary's eyes widened as she watched him take a sip and then focus on setting his glass down. "And what did she say to that?"

"She said the feeling was mutual," he answered quietly.

Shaking her head, she pointed out softly, "No big surprise there." Taking an unnecessary stab at a bite of food she had no intention of eating, she asked, "And is this feeling something new on your part, or has it been there for a while?"

"It's been there for a while," he admitted, venturing a glance up at her.

When their eyes met, he was slightly surprised when he didn't see the tiniest bit of ridicule in hers. Instead, she asked, "So why didn't you tell me the truth about that when I asked you before? After her house was broken into, and then again on the plane coming home?"

Marshall shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it's partly because I wanted her to be the first to know. Well … the first to hear me say it out loud, anyway. I kind of think you already knew – or at least suspected."

Letting out a sigh, she nodded. "Yeah. I guess I did."

"That wasn't the only reason, though," he confessed. "Look, Mare, you were right about something you said to me on the way home. I hadn't realized it before, but I was more or less holding back from taking a step forward with Jess."

"Any why was that?"

"I kind of think you already know that, too."

With a look of confusion, she contended, "You've got me there."

"You know I was reluctant to let go of the feelings I had for you," he said softly.

Mary stared at him, her heartbeat picking up the pace ever so slightly. It wasn't as if the admission was a complete shock, particularly when she recalled the toast he had made at her impromptu office engagement party, but she was surprised to hear him say the words out loud nonetheless. "No, Marshall, I didn't," she insisted quietly, "for the simple fact that you never told me you had feelings for me. If you haven't guessed by now, I'm not like most women. I don't get the whole read-between-the-lines thing when it comes to others' feelings directed my way. I need things spelled out in black in white. That's the way I am. And I would think that after having spent seven years of toil and trouble with me, you would've figured that out by now."

Marshall was silent a moment, a whole world of missed opportunities suddenly flashing before his eyes. "And if I had spelled it out? Would it have made a difference?"

Feeling the tug at her heart at the thought of having to once and for all put the nail in the coffin of the prospect of two of them, she replied gently, "No, it wouldn't have." Letting out a sigh, she explained, "Look, what you and I have goes way beyond what we do from nine to five. You're the only constant in my life, and I depend on you for nearly everything important. You're my rock when things at home are in their usual state of disarray, my etiquette guide in delicate situations tempering my bull-in-a-china-shop approach, and my Jiminy Cricket since we both know my conscience has always operated slightly off-plumb. Without you, my mouth probably would've gotten me killed by an offended bystander a long time ago. No other relationship in my life comes close to what I have with you. But we would never work as a couple and I care way too much about you to ruin your life by trying. It would eventually wreck this incredible relationship that we do have, that I so depend on. As difficult as it may be to accept, we both know I simply don't have it in me to give you what you need in your personal life."

"Why do you say that? What is it you feel I need?" he questioned.

"We both know you're the giver and I'm the taker in this relationship," she pointed out. "And even though that sounds like a bad thing, I think it contributes to us being excellent partners. But when you go home at night, you need someone to give back to you all the things I suck out of you on a daily basis. You need someone who can give you the white picket fence and dinner on the table and the 2.5 kids, someone who can make the kind of life with you that your parents made with each other, because that's what's normal and right to you. I'm not that person, and no matter how hard I tried, I'd never be that person because none of those things are normal and right to me."

"And what makes you so sure I want those things?"

"Because I know you, better than I've ever known anyone in my entire life," she assured him confidently.

He shook his head. "Whether you realize it or not, you give something to me that keeps me balanced, too."

"Only to a certain extent, and not in any sustainable way. I still take far more from you than I give back."

Trying to accept what she was telling him, he sighed and admitted, "I can't say this is all a really a big surprise to me. When you broke up with Raph and then began making eyes at Faber so soon afterwards, it was pretty clear you were looking for something else, something other than … well … me."

"Look, Marshall, I know this has been bugging the hell out of you since Faber and I worked together while you were out of town, and I've been yanking your chain a little by not giving you any details, but let me clear something up here and now: Nothing really happened between Faber and me."

"'Nothing', or 'nothing really'? Because with you, 'nothing really' could mean anywhere from 'absolutely nothing at all', to 'I slept with him but it didn't go so well'. Maybe you could clarify that phrase a bit," he suggested dryly.

Choosing to ignore his pointed observation, she focused on her plate again and amended with a casual shrug, "Nothing of any significance. We shared a bottle of wine, he said some things, I said some things, and then he sailed the friendly skies into the sunset and out of my life. End of story."

"Yeah, well, I have a feeling he's going to be back … and back … and back."

"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not ready for another relationship and I told him that. Whether he chooses to accept that fact or not is up to him. But we're not talking about Faber here, we're talking about you," she responded impatiently. Taking a deep breath, she let it out and then said more calmly, "I need to ask you something. I did the math, and you started dating Jess right after you found out that Raph and I were engaged. Then when you and I had our little blow-out after Jessica's break-in, you mentioned something about that in the heat of the moment. So … did my engagement have something to do with it all? Given what you said … about having had feelings for me … did you turn to Jess because of that?"

"No," he answered quickly, then added more thoughtfully, "But I suppose it did have something to do with how things progressed." Shrugging, he admitted, "My feelings for you had been there for so long, they were this firmly entrenched part of my life. When you got engaged, I was upset, and I did sort of throw myself into helping Jess as a way to cope and keep busy so I didn't have to think about it all. Then one day I called her to finalize plans we had made for working at her house, and just hearing her voice made me happy. That's when I realized that I had been holding so tightly to my feelings for you, and had been so preoccupied with how I felt for you, that I had completely failed to recognize that I had developed feelings for Jess. It was as though they had slipped in under the radar."

"So you told her," Mary suggested.

"Eventually, yes, I told her that she had become an important part of my life." Shaking his head, he added more quietly, "Then you were shot while she and I were out together … and I thought I had made a mistake. But later, when I was with your family and we were all wondering if you were going to pull through, Raphael said something to me that made me realize someone else loved you at least as much as I did, someone who was in a position to do something about it. I felt then that … you were in good hands, if that makes any sense."

Mary shrugged. "Not particularly, but go on…"

"That brief conversation became something of a turning point for me. It made me realize I needed to start letting go, not of all my feelings for you, but of the ones that had been keeping me from moving forward with my personal life."

"But you still didn't take that next step with Jess. You still didn't sleep with her," Mary pointed out. "Why not? What held you back?"

"Just because I knew I needed to let go, didn't make it easy to actually do so," he explained as he focused on swirling the ice in his tea glass.

Mary studied him carefully, wondering how she could ever have been so caught up in her own life that she hadn't realized the impact she was having on his. "So what about today?" she finally asked. "What was it that made you finally decide to tell Jess what you did?"

After contemplating a moment, he answered, "I guess I finally realized that I needed to be honest with myself and with her. She's become too important to my life for me to be any less. And in these last few days of being here with her, day and night, I have this peculiar feeling of … home, even more so than when I actually am at my home. I can honestly say I've never felt that with any other woman before. I know eventually she's going to kick me out and go back to work, but until she does, this is absolutely where I want to be. I can't remember the last time I felt so content." He paused a moment before adding, "You know, she said something about you today that I think you should know."

"Oh? What's that?" Mary asked suspiciously, feeling as though she had already heard more soul-baring revelations than she could reasonably be expected to process and accept for one night.

"She said she thought she should've told you why she really took the bullet when you asked her in the hospital, that if you had known how she felt it might have allayed some of your fears about the two of us since she knows you don't approve…"

"It isn't that simple," she interrupted. "Approving, not approving … there are so many issues involved. For many very obvious reasons, I still think this relationship is a bad idea." Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. "But when I think of the miraculous twist of fate that it takes for any two specific individuals in this infinitely vast universe to end up on the same square foot of earth, I have to wonder if I have the right to make that call. I think that maybe you and Jess deserve the chance to figure out for yourselves whether or not you work. I can't say I'm happy about it, I just don't think I have the right to try to fight it."

Marshall stared at her wide-eyed. "Geez. I don't think I've ever heard you be so … rational before. I'm not sure how to respond."

Not bothering to try to argue yet another pointed remark, she replied, "I'd like to think I've learned a little something along the way. I mean, Raph and I had everything going for us. There were no real obstacles to the two of us working things out but _us_. So who am I to say that you shouldn't try to work things out with Jess even though you have some rather significant obstacles to overcome? In this infinitely vast universe, surely stranger things have happened."

He gave her a warm smile. "Surely."

***Mary tip-toed from the bathroom and started for the bedroom door when something caught her eye. Quietly making her way to the nightstand beside Jessica, she reached down and picked the object up. She set it on her outstretched palm and examined it closely in the dim light – a tiny, perfectly detailed and folded origami Terrier. Shaking her head, she couldn't help but smile before returning it to its watchful place. But instead of turning away, she studied her witness as she slept peacefully, wondering if she saw the same things her partner did when he looked at her. Her mind whirled with snippets of the conversation they had shared. She knew when she finally put her head on her own pillow, things would come back to her that for the moment she had purposely pushed aside: things that stung, things that made her sad, things that would make her wonder about what might have been. It would all come back, it would all be sorted, and it would all be filed away for future reference and consideration. For better or worse, it was the way she worked.

She reached down to carefully brush a stray curl from her witness' shoulder. "'Journeys end in lovers meeting'," she quoted in a whispered voice. "Welcome to Albuquerque, Jessica Larson, it looks like your journey may finally be over. Just take good care of him – otherwise, bullet wound scar or not, I'll still kick your ass."


End file.
